Western
by Maiika
Summary: Gunslinging, banditry, prostitution, gambling, survival, and an ensemble cast. It's late 19th century in the old west, with all the violence and romanticism of the genre. All humans in a real world setting. G/CC, B/V, K/18.
1. Welcome to West City

An elderly Native American sat in a rocking chair on a rickety porch, poised as if guarding the front door of the porch's bustling establishment. His chair creaked as he rocked back against the wooden slats beneath his chair, while his long-nailed fingers curled around the weathered chair arms. His impassively staring, gaunt face was characterized by heavy wrinkles and wizened eyes, which astutely darted to the side as another man stepped onto the porch.

The younger man was dressed in the current American, casual fashion, with his handsome face shielded by the wide brim of his hat, from beneath which an unusual lengthy black cascade of hair fell down his back. The old man tracked the younger man's movements as his boots thrummed loudly against the shifting porch boards. In passing, the young man tore a wanted poster off the wall as he moved towards the old man. He crumpled it with one hand, and then tossed it carelessly towards the older man before he entered through the swinging doors into the establishment without even a glance towards the man in rocking chair. The old man frowned deeply after him, shaking his head in disapproval of the debauchery occurring inside that place, where raucous laughter and rowdy music already purveyed the air, even at that early afternoon hour.

The tall stranger proceeded past the entrance, through the dimly lit establishment, receiving curious glances from the busy patrons as he passed. He made his way past the crowds of short skirted women and gun-carrying, tobacco-chewing gamblers, to sit on a barstool before the bald, narrow-eyed bartender. A wiry, elderly drunk with a good amount of teeth missing hiccupped in the barstool beside him, making the new arrival sneer in distaste and turn his back to the other patron as the bartender addressed his presence with feigned indifference.

"What'll it be?" The bartender toweled down the inside of a wet glass, while scrutinizing the imposing newcomer in the peripheral vision of his astute, dark-eyed gaze.

"Straight whiskey." The man ordered. As the bartender poured his drink, the man casually leaned an elbow against the bar and twisted himself around to observe the scene occurring behind him.

Loud laughter was ringing from a full, round table of card players. The game seemed to be holding everyone's attention in the saloon. The players were apparently deep into a game of poker, with one of the men leading by a wide margin, as indicated by the stack of coins by his elbow at the table.

"There's some good money in tha' game." The drunken old man informed the newcomer with a nudge of his elbow. He smiled slyly and traced the line of his white beard with his arthritic fingers. "Care to make a bet?"

The long-haired man pursed his lips pensively as he narrowed his eyes at the table in the distance, to observe the young man in the lead exposing his cards to the group with a wide grin and a triumphant gleam in his eyes. As a chorus of groans and expletives rang from the other players at the table, the man at the bar clenched his teeth together tightly, ignoring the old man who leaned into his personal space and awaited his answer.

The brush of a hand against his elbow drew the stranger out of his daze as he turned his black eyes hostilely towards the bartender who dared to touch him, though the touch was only incidental, intended for the old man who was leaning in too closely for his own good. The bartender's eyes momentarily widened in alarm at the hostile look, before he narrowed them sternly at the old man.

"Not this time, Roshi. Leave the man alone." He warned before meeting the stranger's gaze with a knowing look in his eyes.

"You're smarter than you look, Barkeep." The stranger replied with a smirk and a gentle tip of his hat.

"Tien _is_ smart." The drunk adamantly agreed. "That's how he keeps this place running so smoothly, even with all the _vagrants_ that pass through here."

"Roshi!"

"Got something against vagrants?" The stranger asked with amusement before the bartender could chastise his patron any further. Everyone but the cloudy-minded drunk clearly already knew the newcomer was a drifter, who could take offense to the derogatory use of the term 'vagrant'. Without awaiting a response, he lifted his chin indicatively towards the table of rowdy players and grumbled in a low voice, "Seems this town treats them pretty well from what I see."

"Huh?" The old man's gaze suddenly sobered as he narrowed his eyes to focus on the people at the poker table.

A short, demure man with a wide-brimmed cowboy hat sat at the table with an aura of status defined by the official sheriff's badge pinned on his chest.

Next to him, an elderly man, more wrinkled than the Native American rocking on the porch and the drunk at the bar, glared in frustration at his cards through his bushy white mustache which defined most of his face.

Another man at the table had a beautiful blue-haired, flirtatious woman seated on his lap. His long, black hair was secured in a tail, with a cowboy hat atop it and a faded scar across his cheek.

A very large man sat between him and the leading player, taking up most of the space at the table. His brown hair, beard and glasses would have rendered his appearance commonplace if it weren't for his size making him stand out in the crowd.

The man who had just collected chips from the other players pulled a gun and spun it playfully between his fingers as he smiled towards the rest of the table. His black hair spiked from beneath his hat in various directions, and even as he laughed joyously, his black eyes held a degree of taunting.

"There're no vagrants over there." Roshi dismissed, before turning to the bar to sip at his own glass of liquor.

The drifter snorted in disbelief, before reaching for the glass of whiskey behind him. He raised the glass to his lips and downed the liquor in one gulp before placing the glass harshly back on the bartop. He reached into his pocket and threw money on the table, far more than the drink was worth, before stepping away from the bar intently without another word.

"Haven't I seen him somewhere before?" Roshi asked with a cock of his head as he carefully studied the back of the tall, imposing figure heading to the card table.

Tien frowned at Roshi's unsettling observation. The man had never stepped foot in their town before. Either Roshi was mistaken, or he would have seen his face in a show advertisement or a wanted poster; and that man was certainly no performer.

"Care to cut me in?" The man asked with a sly smile once he reached the card players. He pulled a chair from a nearby table to seat himself without invitation.

The leading player holstered his gun before glaring warily at the newcomer, as the other players were already doing.

The short sheriff smiled apologetically and lifted his hat to expose his bald scalp. "Sorry, friend, but this is a private game." He explained before he replaced his hat and resumed shuffling the cards for their next round. He finished shuffling and put his hands in motion to deal the cards as the stranger glared stubbornly into the eyes of the man seated across the table from him.

"Sure. But you're dealing a new hand." The man persisted as he shifted his gaze momentarily back to the sheriff. He gave the table a charming smile, including a not-too-subtle leer at the voluptuous woman possessively wrapped in the scarred man's arms. "You can cut me in."

"As Sheriff Krillin just told you, _friend_ ," the blue-haired woman added with a warning glare and nervous pull at her skirt under the man's heated gaze, "this game is private."

The sheriff meaningfully placed his gun on the table with a notable thump, before scrutinizing his cards fanned before his face.

The long-haired man huffed in amusement and smirked at the silent player straight across from him who appeared to be focused on his cards. "Too private to include your own brother?"

The game players gasped and widened their eyes in alarm at the question, while looking expectantly at the man to whom the question had been clearly directed. He remained focused and seemingly ignorant of their eyes on him, even as the drifter frowned bitterly and growled with irritation at the failed recognition.

"Kakarot!"

To the drifter's displeasure, the card player's response was still delayed, his gaze only rising from his cards after the sense of everyone's eyes on him permeated his intense focus. His eyes widened in surprise before he looked around expectantly, as if someone else would come forward to claim the name.

"You must be mistaken!" The large, older man laughed heartily as their visitor seethed with frustration. The laughing man clapped his large hand heavily atop the shoulder of the focused card player seated next to him. " _This_ is Goku. There's no Kakarot in this town."

"There _is_ , and he's sitting right in front of me." The stranger persisted through clenched teeth as he leaned domineeringly into the table.

The man he claimed to be his brother lifted his gaze again from his cards, to raise a brow disbelievingly at that contention and address the man across the table, "what's your name, Stranger?"

The stranger chuckled in blatant disbelief, throwing his hands up in frustration. When his laughter ceased, he narrowed his eyes angrily at Goku. "Five years. It's been five goddamned years, Kakarot. What the hell have you been doing all this time?"

Goku frowned deeply in disappointment at his response. "I'm sorry you lost someone. I'm sure the sheriff can help you locate who you're looking for. If you still have something to say to me, we can talk. _After_ this hand." Goku added that last statement with insistence that starkly contrasted the friendly tone he had been using. He narrowed his eyes at the newcomer before smirking as a fire lit his eyes, one the irritated brother was certain he knew all too well. "I don't like quitting when I'm on a winning streak."

"No. You don't." The stranger agreed knowingly with a hard stare.

The others eyed the two men as tension spread around the table. The card players exchanged questioning glances with one another, unsure how to proceed from there, until the drunk at the bar yelled out loudly. "Now I know where I seen him!" He slurred as he threw a hand up in the air and nearly fell out of his chair. "That man there is a Saiyan!"

The blue haired woman gasped in alarm, as a hush otherwise fell over the saloon. The music stopped, other patrons stopped talking and stared, and the card players stared long and hard at their visitor. Goku stubbornly returned his gaze to his cards as a long-haired, curvy blond made her way over to the town's infamous visitor with a sly smile.

"Well, well. A Saiyan in West City. Never thought I'd see the day." She purred seductively as she placed both hands on his shoulders, before leaning down to entice him with the view of her exposed cleavage. "If you're looking for a little entertainment after you're done playing games, Honey, give me a ring." She informed him with a finger pointed in the direction of where she could be found. As the blond woman smiled slyly at the intrigued gaze of her target, the music started back up in the saloon.

"Place your bets." Goku said to his associates, before getting the game started with his own bet.

As the game continued, the Saiyan sank casually into his chair, carefully scrutinizing Goku the entire time. Goku mostly focused on the game, yet stopped to study his confounding pursuer from time to time, until the game reached its end. When the game finished with Goku winning yet another round, he happily collected the monies from his surrounding players, until the elderly, moustached man drew a gun on him. Goku froze as the Saiyan and all the others startled defensively at the hostile move.

"Put down your gun, Dr. Gero." Krillin warned as he reached for his gun which had sat on that table through the card game.

"Sheriff, this man is a cheat!" The doctor retorted while refusing to lower his gun or remove his gaze from Goku. "A lousy, no good cheat!"

Goku blinked innocently at the disgruntled old man.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Gero." The blue haired woman warned reasonably. "There are a lot of witnesses here. Even if you kill Goku, you'll never see that money again."

"Bulma's right." The sheriff agreed as he tightened his grip on the revolver he kept trained on the murderous card player. "Just drop the gun, and we'll all forget this ever happened. Right, Goku?"

"Definitely." Goku replied with an easy smile, though he kept his gaze intently fixed on the man threatening him.

The Saiyan carefully observed the interactions, his fingers itching for the gun at his holster beneath the table if the need arose. Gero's gaze softened in consideration of their arguments, but then he glanced at the coins piled on the table in front of Goku and growled in aggravation as he tightened his finger on the trigger.

"No!" Krillin yelled as he prepared to fire, while the deafening blast of a gunshot was already ringing through the saloon.

Everyone froze in anticipation, until Goku leaned back in his chair, lifting his smoking gun from beneath the table. Dr. Gero gaped and grunted in pain, before he fell forward, stumbling to the floor from his chair.

"You dirty bastard! That was my knee!" Gero screamed in agony as the stout sheriff stood.

The rest of the saloon patrons, who had been startled by the gunshot, gradually resumed their previous activities as Krillin walked around to the wounded man's side of the table. Krillin rolled his eyes as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

"You're lucky it wasn't your head." Krillin muttered before pulling Gero off the ground forcefully by his elbow. He slapped the cuffs on the grimacing man, who glared indignantly as the cold metal snapped around his wrists.

"What are you doing?! _He's_ the one that shot _me_!" Gero shouted as he furiously bared his teeth and thrashed towards Goku. "He's the cheat!" He cried as he struggled in Krillin's relentless grasp and Krillin received an appreciative smile from Goku.

"Looks like duty calls, my dear." The scarred man grumbled as he lightly pressed to lift the woman seated on his lap. The woman accommodated him by rising to her feet, revealing with her removal from his lap his outfit which also adorned a badge like Krillin's. "I hope to see you again soon, Bulma." He attempted to kiss her cheek, but she pulled away in alarm as Gero growled irately in the continued struggle moving towards the door just behind her.

Bulma giggled as she endearingly petted the deputy's chest. "You'd better get moving, Yamcha. I think Krillin could use your help."

"Then I guess this is goodnight." Yamcha said to Bulma with a fond smile and tip of his hat as he hurriedly followed Krillin out the swinging saloon doors.

"You need someone to walk you home, Bulma?" Goku asked as he stood from the table, holstering his gun and smiling widely at the beautiful lady, who was receiving many unsolicited looks from the other male patrons of the saloon.

Bulma smiled appreciatively at Goku before looking meaningfully towards the imposing Saiyan rising to his feet at the other end of the table. "Thanks, Goku, but I don't think your Saiyan friend would like that too much." Bulma admitted with a sly smile at the glowering outlaw.

Goku frowned deeply at the reminder, causing Bulma's brows to furrow with concern.

She leaned closer and grabbed Goku's arm lightly, whispering into his ear, "You gonna be alright being left alone with that man?" She pulled back to study Goku's reaction. When his expression proved impassive and his gaze shifted warily to the expectantly waiting long-haired man, Bulma frowned worriedly. "You didn't take his money in a game of cards five years ago, did you?"

Goku furrowed his brows in concentration as he looked at Bulma, before glancing at the Saiyan and back to Bulma again, shaking his head. "I honestly don't remember if I did." Goku admitted openly, before frowning at the Saiyan again and grumbling under his breath. "But this 'brother' approach is a new one if _that's_ what this is all about."

"I'll say." Bulma agreed as she leaned to the side to glance past Goku at the striking figure of his supposed brother. "Think he's crazy?"

Goku laughed at Bulma's question, causing her to forgo all seriousness and laugh along with him. "Probably just drunk. I'll be fine, Bulma." Goku said assuredly as he lightly placed his hand on her delicate shoulder. "You'd better be going though. It'll be dark soon, and nighttime is no time for a lady to be out alone in this town."

"Here, Bulma. I'll escort you home." The gargantuan card player offered. "I'd better be going anyways." He rose to his feet with a grunt and notable strenuous effort. "My daughter probably could use some help getting supper on the table right about now."

Bulma smiled at the man as he steadied himself on his feet and extended his elbow in offer. "Thank you kindly, Mr. King." Bulma said as she looped her arm around his and the pair headed towards the exit of the saloon. "I'll be sure to let my father know how kind you've been when he goes to make his bank deposit later in the week."

Goku watched the pair until they were out the door, which the Saiyan did in turn as he observed Goku's behavior. Goku exchanged a momentary look with the Saiyan before wordlessly returning to the table to collect his winnings in a bag he'd left on the ground. After his money was collected, with the Saiyan patiently waiting in silence, Goku lifted the glass containing the remains of his liquor he'd been imbibing during the card game, chugging the remnants in one smooth gulp.

With a sigh of satisfaction and a sweep of his arm across his face to remove the lingering moisture, he pulled the strap of the bag over his shoulder and proceeded to the exit of the establishment, as if completely ignoring the Saiyan's shadowing presence. He slammed the doors open and tipped his hat to the elderly Native American still rocking on the porch as he passed.

"Goodnight, Goku." The old man called after him.

Goku waved over his shoulder as he descended the few steps of the porch to the level of the dirt street, with the Saiyan in tow. "Goodnight, Kami!" He called from a distance as he continued making his way down the wide, dirt street.

After a few minutes of pursuit, which gradually increased in haste as their distance from the saloon grew, the Saiyan snarled in frustration. "Hey!" He yelled forcefully, causing Goku to stop abruptly and stiffen at the address. "Is this it, Kakarot? You're just going to _avoid_ me now?"

Goku glared to himself before suddenly spinning to lunge at the other man. He raised his forearm and charged him forcefully into the side of a building, away from the highly visible main street down which they had been traveling. Goku pinned his forearm across the Saiyan's throat, baring his teeth angrily at the taller man.

The Saiyan was initially taken aback by the sudden attack, but promptly recovered from his surprise as he smiled in amusement, even as his throat was being painfully crushed. Reluctantly, Goku eased off his counterpart, giving the Saiyan the opportunity to speak after the release of a few brief coughs.

"Same old Kakarot." Was the Saiyan's choice of words as he rubbed his throat soothingly from that bruising contact.

Goku pressed the Saiyan against the wall hard with his forearm propped against the Saiyan's chest. "Dammit, will you quit calling me that?!"

"Why not? It's your _name_." The Saiyan sneered as he reached his hands up to pull Goku's restraining arm off his chest.

Goku allowed his arm to slide to his side at the Saiyan's pull as he sighed with frustration before looking around anxiously. The sun had been setting during their card game in the saloon. The evening sky was now darkened with only a hint of the sunset remaining to light the road. A few horses were tied up nearby, making their quiet, animalistic noises, while yards away, the faint laughter of children playing could be heard. A man passed by on the main street, oblivious to their presence as he called drunkenly to a friend in the distance.

The Saiyan smiled triumphantly to himself as he observed Goku's careful scrutiny of their surroundings. After assessing their level of privacy, Goku turned back to stare into the Saiyan's eyes with a bitter frown.

"What do you _want_ , Raditz?"

* * *

A/N: I did some research on the way people lived in mining/railroad towns and historic cities like Tombstone. The history was really entertaining, which took me by surprise, because I've honestly never been a big fan of Westerns. A lot of the way they lived and the roles in those towns in those days mesh well with the DBZ universe.

No offense is intended by the portrayal of these characters as certain races or in particular societal roles. It is just a matter of portraying the time period/setting accurately, with the best fit for these DBZ characters, which in no way is meant to insult or degrade any of the characters, but every town had drunks, hustlers, prostitutes, racists, cheaters, corrupt officials (who all could be very respectable at that time, even the prostitutes)...it was just the way the west worked.


	2. Proposition

Did you know that the "F" word was used much more freely in the old west? It was pretty common to hear and not considered as offensive as we see it today. If people really wanted to talk with a foul mouth in those days, they'd sound more like Yosemite Sam from the Looney Tunes. I snicker every time I think about that.

* * *

The desert song of the night filled the rural surroundings where a small, open barn was quietly located.

Inside the barn, hay littered the ground, over which a nocturnal rodent scurried. At the sounds of its scurrying, a large, muscular man reclined against a bale of hay on the ground, was startled from his sleep. He snorted in disgust when he sighted the creature, before reaching for the gun at his hip. As he sneered and wiggled away from the movement in the hay, he took aim with the loaded gun.

"Don't fuckin' do it." Drawled a low voice from across the barn.

The gunman grunted as his eyes widened in surprise. He turned towards the smaller man in the barn, who was seated on a wooden crate and glowering at him with contempt. The gunman hesitantly lifted his gun towards the ceiling and eyed the rodent as it scampered off, before placing his gun back in its holster. "I wasn't gonna shoot it, Vegeta."

"Of course you weren't." Vegeta rolled his eyes before dismissively pulling the brim of his brown hat over his widow's peak, low enough to conceal his dark eyes as he leaned back against the wooden wall behind him.

The larger man reached a hand to noisily scratch at the rough stubble along his jawline, before looking observantly through the nearby window into the dark, empty field surrounding them. "I know better than that." He grumbled as he sourly pursed his bottom lip. "I wouldn't want any savages finding us out here…or lawmen, for that matter."

The large man leaned back against the hay bale, tilting his head towards the spider-webbed ceiling as a pensive expression crossed his angular, hard face. His thin mustache rose with his lips as a smile graced his face. "Actually, I wouldn't mind it _too_ much."

"Can't have murders on our hands right now. We're not leaving a trail, Nappa." Vegeta grumbled irritably from beneath his hat, before sitting upright and lifting the hat to glare at his companion. "You want to shoot something so badly, why don't you shoot yourself? It would save me the trouble from you and your stupidity."

Vegeta cocked a brow suggestively at the other man, who frowned deeply at Vegeta's proposal. "My stupidity?" Nappa retorted indignantly. " _I'm_ not the one stupid enough to show my face in town, where there's bound to be wanted posters with our faces plastered all over the place."

As Vegeta frowned deeply in understanding, Nappa crossed his arms gruffly and muttered under his breath, "I'm not the one who's going to get us killed before we get out of here."

Vegeta clenched his teeth tightly before scoffing through them loudly enough for Nappa to hear him across the barn. Vegeta turned his head to gaze intently towards the barn door, as if expecting an overdue appearance. His eyes narrowed at the still, quiet door as Nappa spoke again, "Think he's been caught?"

"The sheriff of this town is a joke." Vegeta scoffed, "There's no way he could be taken in. Even so, if he doesn't show by morning, we're leaving without him."

"Vegeta!" Nappa gasped as he hopped to his feet in alarm. "We can't just leave Raditz behind. He'll be good as dead!"

Vegeta folded his arms over each other, crossing his legs and tensing all over his body, as if he were folding into himself. His frown deepened as he stared towards the ground with an emotionless visage. "Then be glad you're not Raditz."

"Vegeta!"

"I'm not discussing this with you, Nappa."

"Wha-?" Nappa asked with his brows contorted in utter confusion before he fervently shook his head and indicated the window with a raise of his finger. "No, there! Someone's comin'!"

Vegeta quickly rose to his feet to get a better view of what Nappa had seen, as he already could hear the trotting of horse's hooves approaching. They both expected it to be Raditz, but when the cloak of darkness ahead began to unveil the intruders, it became apparent that there were two riders approaching on horseback.

While Vegeta already had his gun drawn, Nappa lowered his hand to his holster. "Shit." Nappa drawled. "Who the hell could this be?" Nappa drew his weapon and squinted as he aimed for the approaching horsemen.

"Remember, Nappa. No trail. If it comes to being sighted, we need to make this a clean kill." Vegeta squinted through the window, trying to get a glimpse of who was approaching.

"Hey!" A voice bellowed from the distance, "it's me!"

Nappa heaved a sigh of relief at the familiar voice calling from horseback as he withdrew his gun and holstered it. Vegeta wasn't so quick to let his guard down. Nappa eyed Vegeta's pointed gun curiously before meeting Vegeta's gaze, then locking his gaze on the gun again. "Vegeta…it's Raditz."

"Raditz can ride _two_ horses at once now?" Vegeta growled before cocking the hammer of his gun and shouting out the window, "Who's with you?!"

The thumping of hooves came to an abrupt halt. Vegeta and Nappa waited for a response as murmuring could be heard in the distance, clearly two male voices, before the sound of feet hitting hard ground indicated that the men had dismounted.

"Raditz! You and your friend better not move another step until we know who he is!" Nappa called.

He bared his teeth in frustration as the intruders approached anyways. Vegeta prepared to fire, even if he wasn't sure which one of them was Raditz, while Nappa gaped disbelievingly at the sight before him. "Holy shit." Nappa smirked widely in recognition as he reached around for the barn door. "Kakarot!"

Nappa hurriedly made his way through the door as Vegeta scowled at the name before slowly holstering his gun.

Outside the barn, the man frowning reluctantly at his brother turned to greet the approaching larger man casually, "Hey, Nappa." Goku's eyes darted towards the barn, continuing to stare there as Nappa made his way around to assess the horses and the appearance of his old pal.

"You've grown up. Not such a shrimp anymore." Nappa teased before clapping a hand hard against Goku's back. While Goku continued staring at the barn, Nappa turned his attention to Raditz with a curious expression. "Where'd you find him?"

"Hustling in a saloon in West City." Raditz lowered his chin to his chest and glared at Nappa. "The place neither of you wanted to go."

"The place you were _stupid_ enough to go. Anyone recognize you?" Vegeta moved to stand in the doorframe of the barn, leaning his back against the structure. He eyed Raditz accusingly before his gaze slowly drifted over to smirk at the younger brother. "Obviously someone did. It's been a long time, Kakarot."

Goku clenched his jaw tightly before forcing a nod towards Vegeta. "Vegeta."

Vegeta stared intently at Goku, as Goku stared back at him. Raditz and Nappa exchanged a wary glance as they sensed the palpable tension, before Raditz shifted his stance and uneasily reached a hand to scratch at his brow.

Goku reached a hand to pat the back of his golden stallion while eyeing his brother hostilely. "You gonna tell me what you want now?"

"You're acting like you're in a hurry to get away from us!" Nappa shouted with an amused smile. "Damn, you just got back!"

"I'm not back." Goku stubbornly replied, before glancing impatiently at his brother. "I have a new life now. I have a home and friends and family here, and I happen to like it. I'm not going back to living as an outlaw." Goku placed his free hand on his hip and fidgeted agitatedly as he frowned at the group.

Vegeta narrowed his gaze at Goku and pointed a finger firmly towards the distant town. "Are you telling me that the people in this city have no idea who you are?"

"No." Goku turned his head to give Raditz a reproving glare. "I'd like to keep it that way."

Vegeta crossed his arms and studied Goku's face while Goku continued firmly frowning at his brother. "You don't want to come back?" Vegeta shrugged. "Fine. We don't want you back."

"Good." Goku said quickly as he moved towards his horse.

Raditz grabbed Goku by the shoulder, restraining his brother from mounting. "Hold it, Brother." Goku turned to glare at Raditz, who was already looking at Vegeta, "Vegeta, the job." Raditz nodded pointedly towards his reluctant brother. "Kakarot's good for it."

"We'll find someone else." Vegeta said.

" _Who_ , Vegeta?" Nappa asked as he stepped towards Vegeta. "We _need_ that extra set of hands. There's no one else available around here. And we sort of have a time limit, if you haven't forgotten." Nappa said through clenched teeth.

"Why don't you keep your big mouth shut, Nappa?" Vegeta snapped as he cast a meaningful glance at Goku, who narrowed his eyes attentively at the current conversation.

"What job?"

Raditz smiled triumphantly as he noted a hint of intrigue in his brother's tone. "A bank."

"Here?" Goku's eyes widened in surprise at Raditz and Nappa's confirming nods. "No. You need to find something else." Goku shook his head in adamant disagreement before mounting his horse before anyone had a chance to stop him.

Raditz growled as he reached for the reins and stilled Goku's horse. "Kakarot! We need this job."

"Find something else."

"We _won't_ find something else," Vegeta argued stubbornly as his eyes met Goku's, "but if we try to do this with three men, chances are a lot of people in your little town are going to get hurt."

Goku glared furiously at Vegeta's threat before Raditz spoke again, "So are you going to help us, Kakarot?"

"Like you helped me?" Goku asked Raditz accusingly, before raising his brows at Nappa's guilty frown, and finally settling on glaring long and hard at Vegeta. "I don't think so."

Goku pulled on the reins of his horse, making the stallion buck, which caused Raditz to release the reins and back away. Goku allowed his horse to pull away from the group. Before leaving, he turned the horse around to give the Saiyans a warning. "I won't tell anyone I saw you here, but as Raditz can tell you, people already know there's a Saiyan in town."

Vegeta and Nappa looked at Raditz, who shrugged guiltily while scowling at his brother.

"You'd all better get moving and find another heist. I don't want to see any of you in West City again." Goku said. "Let's go, Kinto'un!"

"Kakarot!" Nappa yelled as Goku's horse whinnied and ran.

"Kakarot," Vegeta yelled angrily after the disappearing Saiyan, "go ahead and return to your boring life! Don't think you're fooling us! You know you miss the heist, no matter how hard you deny it!" Vegeta growled in frustration and violently kicked the dirt as Goku rode away.

Nappa closed his eyes tightly and coughed as the dirt flew into his eyes, while Raditz glared after the trail of his brother's disappearance in tight-lipped frustration. "This is all your fault, Vegeta."

"Don't start with me, Raditz. That's all ancient history. Kakarot should get over it already."

"He will." Raditz decided as he set his lips in a hard line of determination. "I'll make sure he does."

* * *

A man's finely wrinkled fingers curled tightly around the handle of the sturdy black case at his side. His pant leg swept across the case with an abrupt bump as he made his way up the three outdoor steps leading into a building with a large, wooden sign above it reading 'Sheriff'.

As he nodded to the shorter, expectantly smiling man opening the creaky door for him, a harsh breeze made his white hair and mustache ruffle in the wind, causing the man to reach his free hand up to protectively clutch his rounded hat to his head. The older man stepped through the open door, his footsteps followed by the jingling of spurs as the sheriff followed him in.

The old man smiled as he set his case down and his eyes searched the limited space of the sheriff's office. "Now, where is my patient?"

The sheriff chuckled as his deputy hurried to his feet from the seat behind the desk, and another man groaned in misery from within the small jail cell beside it.

"Right here, Brief, you half-wit!" Roared the irritable, injured old man within the cell, who grimaced from the pain he brought on himself by moving to shake his fist at the doctor.

"Gero!" Dr. Brief's eyes widened in shock, "why don't you have that leg bound properly? You know better than that!"

Gero growled in frustration, clutching his injured leg wrapped in a loose cloth as he glared at the long-haired deputy making his way around the desk to head for the door.

"You got things covered here, Sheriff?" The deputy asked Krillin as he stepped out the door, not awaiting an answer as he nodded to the recently-entered gentleman.

"I would've had it bound," Gero growled to Dr. Brief as he glared at Krillin, who was coming forward with the key to unlock the cell, "if these idiot lawmen would've given me access to the proper equipment!"

The cell door swung open with a high-pitched squeak. "Hey, me?" Krillin asked with an affronted expression, "I just got here."

As Dr. Brief made his way into the cell with his medical equipment case tightly in his grip, Gero scowled bitterly. "Yes, well. Your idiot deputy, then." He hissed through his teeth as Dr. Brief set to work unwrapping the haphazard bandaging from around the wounded knee. "Someone should remind that man of my status in this town."

"I'm sure Yamcha doesn't need to be reminded, Dr. Gero." Krillin frowned as he slowly made his way back to his desk. He stood there with a deeply pensive expression, carefully watching the kind doctor tend to the wounded doctor.

"Then I assume," Gero abruptly stopped speaking to Krillin to wince at the stitching Dr. Brief was attending to, "you are releasing me now."

"That depends." Krillin replied as he placed his hands on his hips and sternly eyed the wounded doctor through slightly rusted metal bars, "are you going to be pulling guns on good citizens in my town anymore?"

" _Good_ citizens?" Dr. Gero retorted indignantly, "that Goku Son is no honest citizen." Gero narrowed his eyes at Krillin. "Take it from me. I know dishonesty when I see it. That man was cheating, but this whole town is too blinded by his innocent act to see it."

Krillin frowned deeply at Gero's harsh assessment of a man he had come to know and trust as a close friend. He nodded with his eyes cast towards the ground, before meeting Gero's gaze again just as Dr. Brief was beginning to pack up his equipment from a quickly finished job.

"Speaking of dishonesty, Dr. Gero," Krillin pursed his lips tightly in displeasure, "how's your family doing?"

Gero looked up to meet the sheriff's gaze at the goading question, a smile slowly spreading across his leathery face as he did so. "Is that supposed to _offend_ me, Sheriff?" Gero grunted as he pushed himself off the floor with Dr. Brief's assistance. "I'm proud of my children. They know what they like, and _you're_ going to keep giving them the luxury of exploiting that. Understand?"

Gero gave the sheriff a meaningful raise of his brows as he hobbled towards Krillin and reached into his jacket pocket. Krillin bit his bottom lip hard as he looked up to meet the taller man's gaze, now that they were face to face. When Gero pulled out a coin purse heavy enough to thump into Krillin's palm, Krillin resentfully gave the older man a nod as he pocketed the purse.

"Thank you for your assistance, Dr. Brief." Gero said with a victorious smile as he looked over his shoulder to tip his hat at the other doctor stepping out of the open jail cell. Gero then looked at Krillin one last time with that triumphant smile, before hobbling towards the door. "You all have a good day now. We'll be in touch, Sheriff."

Gero stepped out of the office, leaving an ominous air behind as the young sheriff clenched his jaw tightly in frustration.

"Bulma told me how Dr. Gero was shot last night." Dr. Brief removed his glasses to wipe the lenses clean. "Is it true?"

"What? That Goku shot him?" Krillin asked absently.

"No." Dr. Brief shook his head as he replaced his spectacles over his eyes. "I mean, is it true that we have a Saiyan in town?"

"Oh, that." Krillin muttered before expelling a harsh breath and placing his hands on his hips again. "I'm afraid so."

"Two notorious gangs of bandits in one little town." Dr. Brief shook his head with a reproving frown.

" _And_ Piccolo Daimao."

"And Piccolo. You have your work cut out for you, Sheriff."

"Yeah."

A dubious frown crossed Dr. Brief's face. "You planning on taking that Saiyan in? He _is_ wanted, you know."

Krillin winced. "If I see him around here again..." Krillin grit his teeth, "well, I'll have to try."

Dr. Brief raised his brows high in disbelief, tightly gripping the handle of his case again as he made his way towards the door. "Well, I wish you luck, Sheriff Krillin. I'm honestly glad I'm just the doctor around here."

Brief opened the door, leaving Krillin shaking his head slowly as a loud wind accompanied the closing of the door following the doctor's exit.

"Yeah. And the richest man in town, with a lot to lose, Doctor. Don't forget about that." Krillin muttered before sitting in his chair and putting his feet up to muse over the town's problems in solitude.

* * *

'Champ's' was one of West City's most prominent establishments. Prominent as it was, it was cast to the outer end of town because decent, prominent women took offense to its business practices. Its owner stepped up to the outer entrance, twirling a fancy, jeweled cane in his hand with a wide smile on his face as he nodded towards the passing wealthy doctor on the street, who had just left the sheriff's office, no doubt giving medical aid for the prior night's gun activity at the West City Saloon.

"Good morning, Ladies." The owner cheerily greeted as he made his way into the heart of the main floor.

The elegant atmosphere of that main room was characterized by a dazzling chandelier, frilly lamps, velveteen tufted sofas, oriental rugs, and heavy drapery. The beautiful women inhabiting the place weren't a bad touch, either. The owner smiled in approval at the scene as several ladies respectfully echoed their hellos back to him. One blue-haired woman came forward to flirtatiously wrap a hand around his large bicep.

"Good morning, Mr. Satan. We've been busy this morning, as usual." She chirped as the pair walked arm in arm towards the kitchen.

Mr. Satan's lips curled into a proud smile. "How can we not be, with so many beautiful doves here to draw the men in?" He reached to caress the chin of the large-bosomed, blue-haired woman.

"Of course, Mr. Satan." Hesitance crept into the prostitute's voice and she and the boss both took seats at the round kitchen table.

A long-haired blonde, already in the kitchen, glanced fleetingly at her pimp before opening the cupboards to retrieve a bottle of brandy.

The blue-haired woman met her gaze appreciatively before smiling at Mr. Satan. "Not that I don't appreciate the money," she said hesitantly as Satan reached a hand to receive the drink offered by the blonde, his smile turning into a frown as she spoke, "but this repeat trick-"

"Is he hurting you?" Satan interrupted before sipping his whisky.

"No..."

"Does he have a jealous wife causing you trouble, then?"

"No, it's not that."

"Then I don't see what the problem is, Maron." Satan said. His eyes narrowed impatiently at Maron as the blond shook her wavy length of hair aside.

The blond placed a hand heavily on the table and glared defiantly at the boss. "The problem is, Mark, that we are valuable assets, and we should have a choice in the matter of our johns." She placed her hands on her frill-embellished hips, just below her corset as she glared imposingly down at the man seated at the table.

"Launch..."

"Maron might put up with it, but I am not pleasing that dirty old man anymore." Launch retorted with a grimace of disgust. "He's here every day."

"God bless him." Mark responded with a greedy smile as the women exchanged knowing frowns. "I can't imagine where he gets the money."

"Probably from his card hustling friends." Launch muttered under her breath.

Mark raised a brow curiously at that comment before reaching to snatch a hand around Launch's wrist. "Speaking of that, I hear you were in the saloon again yesterday, Launch."

Launch frowned deeply at the remark while Maron snickered, "She was off admiring that bartender again."

"Is _that_ why you left the bawdry house?" Mark accused as his grip around her wrist tightened.

Launch grimaced in pain before harshly slapping his hand away with the back of her other hand. "I was drumming up business in other parts of town, is all." Launch huffed defiantly before crossing her arms. "I got a real promising hook in a tall, handsome stranger just rolled into town."

"Hm." Satan grunted as he sipped his whisky again. "That's this Saiyan everyone in town is talking about, I presume."

"Damn right."

"I don't see what everyone's making such a big deal about." Mark scoffed. "Those Saiyans probably aren't nearly as tough as rumors make them out to be."

Mark finished his whisky and tilted the glass in Maron's direction. She swiftly stood to retrieve the glass and comply to his unspoken request.

Launch smiled into her own whisky glass before taking a sip. "I honestly don't give a damn how tough they are. That man looks a _hell_ of a lot better in bed than Roshi." Launch swirled her glass with a lewd smile. She chuckled to herself as Mark received his whisky from Maron and tugged her into his lap.

"Speaking of men who are better in bed, Maron," Mark said with an overtly suggestive leer, "how about you and me head to my room after this drink." Mark took a swig of whisky before grinding his hips up against Maron's plump rear seated in his lap.

Maron giggled flirtatiously before exhaling in a breathy hum. "Alright, Mr. Satan. Nothing to start the work day off like a little practice, I suppose." She giggled before leaning in to kiss lightly the stubble of his unshaven face.

"That's it, Maron. I do love my ladies." Satan laughed as he smacked Maron's hip to suggest she stand. "And don't you worry about Roshi. I'll find another girl to his liking tonight. And no more talk about this Saiyan, either." He dismissed with a firm, warning raise of his finger.

He took Maron by the hand, intending to lead her out of the kitchen. When they nearly reached the stairs, the front door opened. A tall, dark stranger walked in, causing Satan to take pause at the man's domineering presence as Launch sauntered up to the man with a smile of recognition.

"Well, hello there, Handsome." Launch greeted with a seductive swagger of her hips before glancing over her shoulder towards Satan and Maron at the stairs. "Looks like you dismissed the Saiyan too soon."

She chuckled mischievously as Satan frowned deeply at the Saiyan.

Raditz glared at the unfamiliar man before smiling at Launch. "I'm here to see you for something, woman."

"I'm sure you are." She replied sassily. "Why don't we go somewhere more private?" She suggested, pulling the Saiyan by the hand as Mark retreated with Maron up the stairs.

"Yes! Go earn that money, Launch. Rest assured, Saiyan," Satan added with a sly smile, to which Raditz frowned, "you'll find my women to your liking." Satan slapped Maron's rear demonstratively before pointing warningly at Raditz. "But have no doubt! There'll be no mistreating my women."

Raditz grunted in annoyance, both with Satan and with being pulled by Launch, before forcefully pulling his hand free of Launch's grip. "I'm not here to fuck." Raditz muttered, causing Launch to balk with an affronted scowl. "I have some questions."

"What _kind_ of questions?" Launch crossed her arms and glowered irritably at the Saiyan as loitering prostitutes curiously observed their interaction.

Raditz's eyes drifted warily to all the curious eyes before he pulled at Launch, much like she had just done to him. "The kind we need more privacy to discuss."

"Huh." Launch abruptly withdrew her hand once they reached a quieter corner of the living room. "My time'll cost you, no matter what you choose to do with it."

"Fine. This won't take long." Raditz withdrew a billfold from his pants pocket and waved it in Launch's face. "What do you know about a man named Goku?"

"Goku?" Launch asked in surprise before realization crossed her face. "Oh, you mean your so-called brother." She laughed, causing Raditz to growl in frustration as he glared at her insistently.

"Well, not much to tell." Launch relented with a careless glance at her fingernails. "He's a handsome fella." She smiled teasingly as she looked Raditz up and down. "Must run in the family." At Raditz's impatient glower, Launch continued with a shrug. "He lives in that fancy part of town with his pretty wife and her rich father."

"So Kakarot married into money." Raditz chuckled maliciously.

Launch raised her brows in confusion. "Yeah. So, we done?" Launch leered at Raditz with a predatory smirk. "Or maybe now you want to put me to better use."

"I've got something to do right now, sweet cheeks." Raditz responded with a smirk. "But maybe next time."

He turned away from Launch, pocketing his entire billfold.

"Hey!" Launch called indignantly to Raditz's back. "You owe me money!"

She ran after him and grasped him by the shoulder to spin him around, while other prostitutes directed a glower at him as well.

Satan came barreling down the stairs at her holler, his hairy chest fully exposed, pants unbuttoned, and a gun in his hand. "Stop there!"

Raditz frowned back at Satan, looking unimpressed as he withdrew his gun from his holster and took aim at the alarmed man on the stairs. Satan's bottom lip trembled along with his grip on the gun aimed at the Saiyan, before he slowly lifted the gun and raised both hands in the air in surrender.

"Hey!" Maron called indignantly from behind him, clutching a sheet across her naked chest. "You gotta make sure Launch gets her money."

"I will." Satan assured Maron through clenched teeth.

Raditz backed towards the door with his gaze and his gun intently trained on Satan.

"I will, baby. I'll get him later." Mark explained at the same time Launch was already lunging at Raditz.

Raditz growled at Launch as she attempted to take the gun from his hand, before pistol-whipping her over the head with it. Satan grunted in alarm as Launch fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Maron clung tightly to Satan as he froze in place, staring in terror at the Saiyan who grunted dismissively before turning to leave.

"I don't pay for answers, Launch." Raditz said dismissively before he slipped through the front door unimpeded.

When Raditz emerged onto the street, he hurriedly made his way to the other end of town. Being careful not to be too conspicuous around the curious residents on the streets, he kept his head down and avoided eye contact along the way. He stopped to lean back against a pillar outside the general store and eye the people going about their day in the nice end of town, from a safe distance.

When he spotted a well-dressed, ebony-haired lady pulling a golden horse by the reins with a young boy by her side, he took pause. He was sure he knew that horse. It looked like the same stallion his brother rode the previous night to the barn. He kept himself concealed, remaining a few steps behind them as he traveled through the muck of the street, listening in carefully as the boy and the woman conversed.

"Can I ride Kinto'un the rest of the way home, Mother?" The tiny boy asked with an exuberant hop.

His mother laughed airily and nodded. "Yes, Gohan." She cooed before her voice turned stern, "I'll walk alongside you to make sure you don't fall, though."

As the boy jumped repeatedly and cheered at his mother's expressed permission, Raditz smirked to himself. Kakarot had not only a wife, but a son. Now he knew how to get his brother to help with the bank job.

* * *

A/N: In case you didn't know, because _I_ didn't until recently, "Mark" really is Mr. Satan's true first name, as chosen by Toriyama. It fits this world much more suitably than "Hercule". I'm usually not a fan of using Japanese words or titles in English fanfiction, but "Kinto'un" struck me as the perfect name for a horse in the old west, compared to "Nimbus". It almost sounds Native American, so I'm going with it. On that note, since there are Native American characters, don't be surprised if you see more Japanese names, like another already introduced in this chapter, "Piccolo Daimao."


	3. Raw Deal

A/N: Bathing wasn't really something people did in the 19th century Old West. Most bathed once a year, usually in May, which is why June weddings were popular. No one really noticed the smell from people, though, since everyone was used to it. So, if at some point in this story you might be wondering about my lack of writing in scenes where people need to wash, now you'll know why.

* * *

An indifferent young man stood in a general store, staring at a bag of flour on the rickety wooden shelf at eye level. Nothing, not the fringe on his jacket, the pin-straight length of his black hair, or even a single muscle on his face moved. Beside him, a blond-haired woman with a face similar to his sat crouched to view items on a lower shelf.

As the woman fingered through a selection of small packets of seeds, Raditz shifted impatiently beside the young man and rested an elbow heavily on the top shelf. "Well?"

"No." The woman said.

The man beside her finally allowed his face to twitch before he inclined his chin towards the taller man hovering imposingly over him. With a wry grin and a disinterested shrug, he said, "I guess we're not interested."

"Why not?" Raditz hissed while anxiously glancing around the general store and keeping his voice low. "I haven't even told you what I'm offering yet."

An offer. Now _that_ had the apathetic man slightly intrigued. There was always room for activities involving money.

The young man locked his gaze on the Saiyan. "Hear that, Eighteen? He's got a good offer." He glanced at his sister with an insistent raise of his brows. "Maybe we should hear the man out."

Eighteen frowned at the seed packets on the shelf as her brother spoke. How could he consider such an idea? Wait, what was she thinking? This was Seventeen. Her brother would do just about anything for fun. So would she- _usually_. But when it involved a child…

Eighteen stood to her feet to glare past her brother at the frowning Saiyan. "I said no. I have certain boundaries, and this job you're suggesting-"

"Crosses them?" Raditz's gaze flickered between the twin pairs of icy eyes watching him. "You sure there's nothing I could offer you that might make you change your mind?"

He forced himself to appear confident with them, though Raditz was anxious for this gang to agree to the job. If he didn't find someone to take care of this for him, his brother would never cooperate, and without Kakarot, completing the heist and leaving West City in time would be impossible.

So he smiled to entice them. "They say your gang is the best in this town for discreet jobs. I need this done right."

The dark-haired twin inclined his chin towards Raditz. "What are you offering?"

The woman scowled at her brother's question. He was being persistent, as always. She should have known Seventeen would not back off easily. But her scowl soon disappeared as she flicked her smooth blond hair out of her face to glance behind her.

There, a massively-sized man with a pair of spurs on his boots and a peak of red hair atop his mostly-bald head stood at a line of shelves. His gaze was attentively fixed on one shelf filled with toys, which he fiddled with which he fiddled while seemingly remaining ignorant of the others' dealings.

Eighteen smiled. "Do you want to get in on this job, Sixteen?" She turned a triumphant smirk on her brother.

Seventeen's lips pursed in displeasure as Sixteen remained fixated on his distraction, hardly twitching at Eighteen's question before he gave a short, "No."

"There." Eighteen huffed. "You're outnumbered, two to one. We're not doing it."

"Ah, Sis." Her brother waved towards the indifferent, larger man. "Sixteen's vote doesn't count. He's just muscle."

Eighteen smirked. "You'd count it if he took _your_ side, Seventeen."

She moved to walk past her brother and Raditz in blatant dismissal, until the Saiyan grasped her tightly by the arm. Her brother glared at Raditz before intently eying the hand, which Raditz promptly removed in response to the nonverbal warning.

He didn't want to push his luck with the Geros, but he needed them to know how important this job was. He was willing to put up more money if it meant losing the deal.

"You're passing up good money here." Raditz whispered through clenched teeth as he leaned in towards Eighteen's ear. "If you're not going to do the job, who else do you suggest I go to?"

Raditz couldn't help admiring the pleasant, feminine scent of the woman in such close proximity. In contrast to her calloused personality, her skin and hair looked so soft. He wondered what she would do if he was so bold as to touch her without permission.

Eighteen pulled away from Raditz to impassively eye the suggestive smirk beginning to cross his face. With a tilt of her head, she raised her brows and hummed in quiet amusement.

"Picking jobs is about more than money for us." Seventeen interrupted before casting a warning glare at the stocky store cashier who was curiously eyeing their private conversation.

The hefty, dark-skinned man behind the counter hurriedly turned away to busy himself at the register, not wanting to draw anymore of the outlaws' attention towards himself. He knew better than to antagonize such a crowd.

The Saiyan smiled mischievously at Eighteen. "If the _job_ I had to offer didn't strike your interest, maybe something else will, Beautiful." He intently ran a hand through her light, silky strands of hair.

Seventeen grunted at the blatant invitation towards his sister before shoving past the Saiyan with a pointed harsh collision of his shoulder. Raditz grunted and nearly stumbled back at the brush off while his gaze remained trained on the sister.

 _She_ found Raditz's apparent interest in her mildly amusing. It wouldn't be the first time she'd caught a man's eye, but she always enjoyed watching the reaction as she lessened a man's ego.

Eighteen smiled back wryly. "Try the redskin who's always coming into town and looking for work. He'd do just about anything for the right amount of pay."

With a seductive smile, Eighteen leaned into Raditz, stopping when their lips nearly touched. "He'd be more likely than me to be interested in what you're offering," when Raditz leaned forward in an attempt to connect their lips, she pulled away and added coldly, "and that's on account of _both_ your offers."

Raditz met her gaze with frustrated disbelief. Who was _she_ to dismiss him? They were both in the same class of outlaws, and he sure as hell was attractive enough to land a woman like her. What a bitch. Worse than the wound to his pride, Eighteen's refusal to do the job left Raditz frustrated. His only hope now would require leaving the delicate job in the hands of this savage she mentioned.

Eighteen studied Raditz's expression before smiling and making her way towards the wide, wood-framed door after her smirking brother without another word.

"Come on, Sixteen." Seventeen narrowed his eyes at the Saiyan as he retreated towards the door.

Eighteen sent Raditz a wink before she slipped out the door. The twins were trailed by Sixteen, leaving the aggravated Saiyan alone in the store with the wary clerk. Raditz sighed in frustration before heading to the stout clerk to toss a box of delicious smelling marinated jerky on the counter. The clerk flinched as the jerky flew towards him and the Saiyan's silhouette overshadowed him.

"Who's this savage I hear about, who works odd jobs?"

As he looked at the Saiyan, the clerk's thick lips curled into a deep frown when he sighted the outlaw's blatant disregard for him. He was frightened by the outlaw, but even more so, by the outlaw's request. Lowering his chin to avoid the Saiyan's gaze, he pressed the purchase slip across the counter to Raditz and remained tight-lipped. If he could avoid introducing another outlaw to Piccolo, he would.

When too much time had passed for his liking, the Saiyan thumped his fist forcefully against the counter. "What's his name?!"

The clerk frowned. He didn't want to inform the Saiyan, but he knew if the Saiyan was as insistent as he appeared, there was no way someone like him could refuse the other man.

He sighed as he glanced towards the door of the shop, afraid someone might overhear him. "Piccolo." He whispered. "He's not a very good man."

Raditz tossed some coins on the table and huffed in amusement as he retrieved his purchase. "Who _is_?"

He tipped his hat at the store clerk and turned to continue his business elsewhere. As Raditz passed through the door of the general store to be greeted by the typical manure-like scent of the western outdoors, he took pause to eye the well-dressed older man and young woman cautiously walking past him into the store.

Pressed for time as he was, he always had a second to admire a gorgeous woman. God knew true beauties were a rare sight to behold for most outlaws in the west. Aside from that, he always took the time to observe the wealthy-which that pair so obviously were. Taking note of that, he went in search of his savage, this Piccolo, while the wealthy pair entered the store and smiled at the cashier, who smiled in cheery relief as the first patron walked out to be replaced by the friendlier two.

"Hello, Dr. Brief, Miss Brief."

Bulma smiled warmly. "Good afternoon, Mr. Popo."

"I'm in need of my wife's laudanum refill, Mr. Popo." Dr. Brief said as Bulma turned her back to the men to peruse the aisles. Dr. Brief tapped a cigarette against the counter and lit it to his lips. "Kami seems to be keeping this store well."

Mr. Popo smiled and politely suppressed the cough triggered by the first wave of smoke irritating his throat. "That he is, Dr. Brief."

At a shelf of books, Bulma stopped to peruse the selection before grabbing one book and flipping through the pages with a dreamy smile while the men continued conversing at the counter. Bulma's lips stretched into a wider smile as her eyes darted rapidly over the lines on the pages, until her attention was diverted by the braying of a passing horse just outside the window of the general store.

When she looked out the window, Bulma sighted the only other Native American who frequented the town aside from Kami, who was a much less welcome sight. When she observed him glaring menacingly at anyone on the street who so much as looked his way, Bulma hastily turned away from the window, wanting to remain unnoticed by the terrible native.

Bulma approached the counter to join her father's side with her book in hand, wrinkling her nose as the general store's overall smell of cedar was replaced by her father's cigarette smoke. "Father, are we about done here? Would you mind if I make a purchase as well?"

Dr. Brief nodded. "Of course, my dear." He eyed the cover of Bulma's book. "For a girl so intrigued by romance, you certainly are taking your time to settle down and marry."

Bulma frowned as Dr. Brief handed the book to Mr. Popo for purchase, though it was obvious there was no criticism behind her father's offhand comment. Dr. Brief had greater problems than his daughter's unwed status, and the man was not one to fuss over trivial issues.

"I'm sure Deputy Puar is ready to ask her any day now." Mr. Popo said. "Who would keep such a beautiful lady waiting?" Mr. Popo smiled warmly as he handed the thickly bound book back to Bulma and received payment from her father.

Bulma smiled at the compliment, before she averted her gaze from the two older men. "Thank you, Mr. Popo. Good day, Sir."

She hurriedly made her way towards the door with her father in tow. Her farewell was repaid with a large, tight-lipped smile from the dark-skinned store clerk, who was incredibly relieved after encountering his second bout of customers in comparison to the earlier ones. He couldn't wait for Kami to return with more supplies for the store. Being alone there always made him nervous. Strangely, he was always more comfortable in Kami's company, despite the fact that his boss was a redskin.

When Bulma stepped outside, she was relieved to find no sign of that disagreeable savage she had seen on the street earlier. Instead, she spotted Goku across the street, heading into the hardware store with his buxom father-in-law.

Bulma smiled and waved when the pair caught sight of her and smiled warmly at her and her father, across the commonplace scene of bickering men with their stinking horses in the middle of the mucky street.

Once upon a time, she had considered Goku for a potential husband, until Chi-Chi King snatched him up so quickly. There was just something about that man that was so appealing when he first arrived in town. In combination with his handsome appearance, the mystery behind his past, his amazing skills with fights and gunfire situations, and the likelihood that he could have been a bandit or killing savages before coming to live in West City were aspects Bulma found so much more attractive in a man than fortune or a steady, respectable job.

Now, Bulma often wondered how Chi-Chi even got the mysterious card hustler to propose the marriage arrangement. Getting Yamcha to commit to the same thing seemed nearly impossible.

Of course, there was also that little issue of Yamcha's occasional visits to the bawdry house at the other end of town. Yamcha liked to think she didn't know that he dabbled there like most other men in town, but Bulma Brief was no fool. And she certainly was not the type of woman to settle for a man who might take her for granted.

The only reason Bulma stuck with her beau for so long -was waiting for his proposal _still_ \- was that there were so few eligible bachelors in West City with better potential. Yamcha held power in town as its deputy, he was popular and well-liked in the community, and he was handsome. Some of those points could be negotiable by Bulma's standards, but good looks were an absolute must.

"...Sounded like there might be some sort of scuffle going on down at the Kings' place."

The comment of a passing man on the street caused Bulma to forget her current musings and take pause to hear the gossiping murmurs of the crowd, which continued with more messages along those same lines.

"I _thought_ I heard a shout."

One refined older woman shook her head with a look of chagrin. "That nice family. Who could want to bother them?"

When Bulma saw Goku dart out of the hardware store, heading towards his family home in alarm, not even waiting for Mr. King to catch up as the bulkier, older man lagged behind, Bulma grimaced with worry. She knew that look on Goku's face. He hardly ever looked so serious, but when he looked like that, she knew something bad was brewing. She only hoped Mrs. Son and that sweet boy were alright.

* * *

Goku threw his father-in-law's front door open upon arriving at the home. His urgency was such that he didn't even notice the reinforced, heavy door had been thrown off its hinges. He leapt over the wrinkled oriental carpet of the entryway, his heart pounding in his chest as he sighted toppled furniture, broken ceramic teacups and spilled tea as he passed through the tiny sitting room.

"Chi-Chi! Gohan!"

When Goku pushed past a partially closed swinging door to enter the dining room smelling faintly of burning food from the adjacent kitchen, the sound of muffled sobs assaulted his senses. He gasped when he sighted his delicate wife in the corner, her hair a mess, face soaked with tears, long emerald gown torn, and mouth gagged with a dirty rag as she sat on the ground with her hands and feet bound with rope.

"Chi-Chi!" Goku's eyes fervently searched the deconstructed room for any signs of his son as he bent down to remove the gag from his wife's mouth and work hastily on her bindings. "What happened? Where's Gohan?"

Goku gently shook his distraught wife as her feet and hands broke free from their restraints. Chi-Chi whimpered at his questions as she turned her face away from Goku and stood, leaning against the floral wallpapering of the dining room for support. Goku stood with her, gripping her arms tightly as he tried to meet her evasive gaze with horror in his eyes.

Chi-Chi couldn't even bear to look at him. She hadn't expected her reaction to seeing him after the incident to be so strong, but her welling emotions were only permitting her to sob harder and avoid his gaze.

Goku repeated himself, "Where's Gohan?!"

When Goku shook Chi-Chi insistently, she finally turned to meet Goku's gaze with a hateful glare. His eyes widened as her open palm flew to his unguarded cheek. Before he had the chance for any reaction to the slap beyond gaping in shock, Chi-Chi's other hand flew to his face, which Goku caught by the wrist in a stilling grip prior to impact, before Chi-Chi growled angrily and took another whack with the other hand, which Goku also caught and held tight before Chi-Chi could make contact.

As Chi-Chi tried to fight him and struggle loose of his grip, Goku sent her a glare. "Chi-Chi!"

She bared her teeth at him in frustration as her reddened eyes welled with tears. She wanted to hurt that man, in spite of how much she loved him; she wanted him to feel the pain she was feeling in that moment. The pain from the damage he had caused his family with his lies.

Goku released his grip on Chi-Chi's arms to hastily wrap his arms around her, restraining her hostilely flailing limbs while also giving her the embrace he knew she needed. When the loving comfort of his grasp finally overpowered the hate she felt, Chi-Chi quit fighting and leaned into Goku's hold. Though accepting of the embrace, she was still furious with him.

Chi-Chi's voice was muffled against Goku's chest. "When were you gonna tell me you were a Saiyan?"

Goku furrowed his brows sadly when he understood where Chi-Chi's temper was coming from. _Never._ He never wanted her to know about his past, let alone discover the truth like this. But he knew, from whatever had happened here, she had learned the truth about him in the worst way. Goku lowered his head in shame as he lightly stroked Chi-Chi's back, while his thoughts filled with dread as they returned to Gohan.

"Chi-Chi," Goku growled her name before taking a nervous gulp, though he was thankful to have Chi-Chi's face burrowed into his chest as he was now the one who couldn't look his spouse in the eye, "where is Gohan?"

She whispered sadly into his chest, "He took him."

Goku felt the tight pull of Chi-Chi's fingers digging into his leather vest as she trembled violently against him, but then she pushed herself away the second his hold loosened with the shocking revelation.

"He took him! He kidnapped our son!" Chi-Chi let loose a scream as she pounded a fist into Goku's chest before violently turning away from him to sob loudly into her hands as the vivid memories of the horrifying event flooded her senses.

Goku glared furiously in realization. Raditz was playing a dangerous game now. They were taking this too far. This was all because of that stupid bank job.

Goku withdrew his pistol from its holster, checking that it was fully loaded before he holstered it again and prepared to leave. "I'm taking him back."

"Just how do you think you're going to do that?" Chi-Chi hissed with such venom in her voice that Goku came to a sudden halt, in spite of how determined he had been a moment ago. Chi-Chi spun around to face Goku with a furious glare. "Your brother said he was leaving him in Piccolo Daimao's custody. That fucking savage has my baby!"

Goku startled at Chi-Chi's furious outcry. He felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his body at the terrifying revelation. Chi-Chi never used profanity, but given the circumstances, he could understand her fury. Goku paced rapidly with helpless frustration, before stopping abruptly. Creating a hole in the wall of his home, Goku punched out his frustration. "Fuck!"

Piccolo was the last person to whom Goku wanted his son in custody. He would have rather known that Raditz, Vegeta and Nappa had Gohan. Piccolo was also, unfortunately, the one person who frequented the town that Goku had no way of tracking down. It was Piccolo's territory out there in the wilderness; no white man had a chance of tracking him if he didn't want to be found. Chi-Chi frowned as she met Goku's eyes and processed his look of realization.

Her voice was bitter when she spoke. "So, think you're taking him back now?"

Goku frowned back at her. He had no words, no defense for his deception, which was the cause of all of this.

"Your brother said you'd know what he wants." Chi-Chi's fury faded to visibly make room for hope and determination with that admission. If there was anyone who could get their son back, she knew it would have to be Goku.

Goku clenched his fists and seethed with frustration. "I do."

"Then do it."

Goku raised his brows in surprise, before shaking his head in disagreement. "Chi-Chi, doing what Raditz wants, that would mean doing some very bad things."

Chi-Chi bared her teeth as she lunged to pull Goku to her level by the red bandana around his neck and address him nose to nose. "I don't care what he fucking wants you to do! You do whatever it takes to get my baby back safe, Goku! Do you understand?!"

Chi-Chi's ebony, pained eyes never left Goku's as she awaited his answer. When Chi-Chi slowly released him, Goku swallowed hard. He hated what he had to do, but he needed to get his son back alive. His wife would never forgive him for bringing this on their family if anything happened to Gohan.

"I'll get him, Chi-Chi." Goku promised whole-heartedly, to which Chi-Chi nodded.

She truly hoped that was true, and would have openly believed it in the past. But this was a new Goku before her, a Saiyan outlaw who she never knew existed. A man who'd been lying to her since they met, and throughout the duration of their brief marriage. She wondered now if their marriage was even legal, given that 'Goku Son' wasn't even his real name.

Goku flinched at registering the uncertain look in Chi-Chi's eyes. That hurt. Out of that entire interaction, nothing hurt worse than seeing Chi-Chi doubt him. She never had before. But given the circumstances, Goku knew he didn't deserve her trust at the moment.

Goku reached a hand to Chi-Chi's shoulder, meaning to pull her in and reassure her, but as his fingers glided against the taffeta of her dress, she pulled away from his grasp as if his hand was made of fire.

Chi-Chi crossed her arms and turned away from Goku. "Go get our son back, Goku."

Goku lowered his head in defeat. He wouldn't be able to get through to Chi-Chi like this. He had to do as she said for now, to save their son.

"I'll..." Goku grabbed his hat and paused in the doorway, "send your father here to keep company...to keep an eye on you."

Chi-Chi nodded without bothering to meet Goku's gaze as her shaky hand came to wipe at her tear-soaked face. Goku took a quivering breath before putting his hat on. He knew where he needed to go, and as much as he hated to go back to them, for the time being it was the only way he knew to get Gohan back. He just hoped the town would forgive him after this was all over.

* * *

A/N: Ah! I almost forgot to thank Reda for working with me as beta again on this story! As always, I love her insight and suggestions.


	4. Making Bank

The smells of his horse, of the forest, of the burning fire-all of it permeated the Native American's nose like a familiar shroud of comfort. He would have been completely at ease beneath the heavy canopy of densely packed pine trees, surrounded by the sounds of wild animals from the distant desert lands, if it weren't for the shrill cries resonating from his little nuisance of a payoff sitting beside him.

"Mommy," the boy sobbed, "Daddy! Mommy!" The boy called again and again between his wails of misery, which in turn were putting Piccolo in a similar state.

Piccolo growled in frustration as he removed the stick holding the meat of his recent kill from the fire, taking a bite of the hot meat before extending it towards the boy. "Eat."

Gohan heard the native well enough over his racket, understanding the command even with the foreign sound of the man's speech. He quieted to suspiciously eye the mean man and the food he offered. Shaken and confused as he was, he couldn't deny also being hungry, especially as his mouth watered at the charred smell of the cooked meat. With a wary glance at the native's face, Gohan reached for the meat. That was a mistake. The scorching heat burned through the soft, young skin of his fingertips, continuing to burn even after Gohan dropped it on the dirt ground and cried out in pain.

"Hot! Hot!" Gohan cried as he blew on his fingers and then grasped them protectively with his other hand. "Waaa!"

The wailing that started after that had Piccolo twitching with fury. Any more crying from that boy and he might consider returning the Saiyans' money, if only they'd take this kid off his hands.

"Quiet!" Piccolo yelled over the boy's incessant wailing. His head pounded as the loud cries continued. "Quiet!"

Piccolo angrily plucked his hunting knife off the ground, producing it threateningly in the boy's face as he released one last, guttural order under his breath, "Be. Quiet."

Gohan felt a shiver of fear as he eyed the sharp blade only inches from his eyes. His fingers still burned terribly, but he pressed his lips tightly together to refrain from crying, though the sobs still wracked his body and he still felt the urge to scream. But this man was even scarier than the man who broke into his home, scared him and took him from his Mommy. The last thing Gohan wanted was another wound added to his burns. He just wanted to be home safe again. He wanted his Daddy to come for him, like the other man promised he would.

When the boy's loud cries were converted into muted whimpers and silent heaves of his chest, Piccolo breathed a sigh of relief. He almost felt sorry for the kid, when that innocent face and those hope-filled black eyes stared back at him. The little Son boy had no idea what a shit world he'd been born into, or why he was currently being used as a pawn due to his con artist father's dark past coming back to bite him in the ass.

Piccolo didn't find that little surprise astounding in the least when the tall Saiyan stranger came to him. He knew better than all those pale-skinned fools. Goku Son wasn't the great man the town made him out to be. He was just another selfish bastard, just like the rest of them.

Now with some peace and quiet, Piccolo withdrew his knife, laid back on his soft pile of coyote furs, and rested his head and closed his eyes to sleep beside the warm fire. He hummed in relief, feeling no concern for his ward as his eyes slid shut, until he heard shuffling from the boy's vicinity. Lazily, Piccolo opened one eye to peer sidelong across the fire at the squirming, nervous child. "Sleep."

"But Mister...Mister...?"

The address from Gohan's quivering voice caused Piccolo to groan in tired annoyance. "Piccolo."

"Mr. Piccolo, when is my daddy coming to-"

"Sleep." Piccolo gruffly interrupted. He would have none of that right now. Now, all he wanted was peace and quiet. Piccolo opened his eyes briefly to spy a pair of wide eyes staring back at him.

Gohan gasped when his eyes met Piccolo's. When Piccolo grunted in annoyance, Gohan squirmed under his intense gaze, before laying docile and forcing his eyes shut. Latent tears slipped from beneath his eyelids and fell down the sides of his tense face, wetting his cheeks and ears, though he wouldn't dare move to even wipe them away. He wouldn't risk irritating Piccolo further or opening his eyes to see Piccolo looking at him like that again.

He wanted to be home in his soft warm bed with his mother, father and grandfather wishing him goodnight, but instead he was stuck on this hard ground with insects and scary, howling coyotes in the background and the smell of the crackling fire's smoke filling his nose. And Piccolo. But somehow, he knew he would sleep, as his tears continued to fall and the entire day's torment emotionally drained him.

Piccolo scowled as he closed his eyes again, for what he hoped was the last time that night. He couldn't wait for those Saiyans to finish their job. There was no way in hell Piccolo would return the kid to the Sons before that time. He was promised more good money by those Saiyans for this, but he also knew better than to trust a notorious group of white bandits. He would only hand the kid over _after_ he got paid. He only hoped it didn't take too long. He didn't know how long he could tolerate being alone in the wilderness in the company of the Sons' sniveling baby.

* * *

A horse with a glossy brown coat stood tied just outside the jail, flanked by Seventeen and Eighteen. As Sixteen stood before it with an amiable expression, feeding the horse a carrot and clicking his tongue fondly at the animal, Eighteen ran her hand smoothly along the strong muscles of its warm, rough side, admiring the smoothness of the horse's sun-heated coat beneath her fingers.

Seventeen stared towards the street. "Nice."

Eighteen followed her brother's gaze while Sixteen remained too mesmerized by the horse to give the comment any attention. Out there on the dirt and mud covered street, Eighteen saw the rich Brief family, where the conceited daughter cast her trio a curious passing glance. Or maybe the spoiled woman was looking to make goo-goo eyes with her deputy boyfriend holed up in the building behind them. That midget pervert, Oolong, was drunkenly stumbling down the street from the West City Saloon. A poorly-dressed street vendor was waving around his wares to every random passerby.

After deciding there was nothing of interest on the street, Eighteen turned to her brother. "What's nice?"

"The horse, Eighteen." Seventeen said with a smirk and a strong clap on the horse's back. "It was a nice score."

Eighteen rolled her eyes before smiling at the horse. Its brown mane and tail were perfectly combed, and the contrasting white streak down the center of its face and at the bottom of two of its legs contrasted beautifully against the honey brown coloring of the rest of its body. If she could design a horse, she would make it look like that one. Yes, it certainly was a beauty, and she did enjoy picking up lovely things. It was too bad that her brother's intention, of course, would be selling it. She couldn't argue against that, though. That was their rationale for stealing the thing in the first place. However, her brother's intentions gave her the perfect excuse to pay someone a visit.

Eighteen smiled slyly. "Seventeen, I'm going to head inside," she tilted her head towards the jail, "to see if I can find us a buyer."

"Alright." Seventeen chuckled knowingly as he propped an elbow on the horse's sturdy back.

He knew exactly what that meant. It was fine with him though. He had no concerns about being unable to find a buyer. Eighteen knew just as well as he did that the sheriff and his pathetic deputy would never purchase any of their stolen goods, and the Geros never sold goods of any other type. But his sister had some strange infatuation with that sheriff, one Seventeen found harmless and mildly amusing.

Seventeen lowered his gaze and chuckled to himself. "You go right ahead and do that. We'll be selling to those Saiyans anyways. They'll probably need a new horse by the time they conclude their business in West City."

Eighteen took a backwards step up the first creaking stair towards the jail, feeling no need to respond to her brother's comments. She wanted to get in there and make her pitch. With a twitch of her lip, she gracefully turned to ascend the rest of the steps into the jailhouse.

Once she entered, she paused in the inner doorway to smile tauntingly at the surprised gazes of the standing deputy and the seated sheriff behind his desk. The cramped five by five cell was currently empty, which was usually a good thing, yet it always made her feel that she was at risk of being thrown in.

"Sheriff," she raised her brows at the flustered gaze of the little bald man she loved to taunt, "deputy." She added to the other man as an aside as she slid her hands along the plane of the closed, gnarled wooden door behind her and then made her way towards the large, mahogany desk.

Deputy Puar's eyes flickered at the intimidating blonde that had just entered their jailhouse. "Uh...Krillin?"

Krillin nodded in answer, his gaze never leaving Eighteen's icy blue, piercing gaze. "It's alright, Yamcha. You can go."

Yamcha tensed as he passed Eighteen, eyeing her suspiciously until he grasped the door handle. He knew those two had an odd relationship, and Krillin would be safe alone with her, or at least that any help Yamcha could offer really wouldn't be worth anything. It was better off if he waited outside and kept an eye on the rest of the Gero clan while she was in there. When Yamcha passed through the door, Eighteen tilted her head to curiously gaze down at Sheriff Krillin.

Krillin frowned stoically. "Miss Gero-"

"Are you or your deputy in need of a new horse, Krillin?" Eighteen ran her fingertips along the length of Krillin's messy desk and passed by him to face the empty jail cell. She crossed her arms once her back was partially turned to him, waiting for his answer.

Krillin sighed. "That's _Sheriff_ Krillin to you."

"Hm." Eighteen smirked. "Still sore about that brawl at the saloon last week, are we?"

"Miss Gero, I don't know what you and your family are getting out of all this." His tone turned exasperated. "I don't think any of you are really that bad, deep down." She huffed in amusement, but he ignored it as he muttered, "except maybe that nutjob father of yours."

Eighteen scowled. "Don't put me in the same category with that waste of skin and bones."

"Why don't you just quit this stuff? Don't you want to settle down sometime?"

Surprised by Krillin's suggestion, Eighteen glanced over her shoulder to meet his gaze. She felt a rush of heat to her cheeks when Krillin smiled warmly at her. Realizing it might show, she quickly turned her back to him again and kept her arms crossed in a stiff posture.

"Have a family?" Krillin encouraged before frowning and lowering his brows. "You're going to miss your chance if you keep playing with fire like this. You're bound to get burned sooner or later."

Eighteen laughed. "By who? You?"

Krillin met her gaze with a hard glare, but remained tight-lipped in the face of her amusement. She was making a mockery of him, but how could he refute her? She was right. He was never going to be the one to put her in her place. That didn't mean she was invincible, though.

"Oh, Sheriff," Eighteen hummed as she leaned over the desk to come eye to eye with the dark eyes of the unhappy man, "I could snap your neck in an instant, right here and now. You wouldn't be able to stop me. We both know it."

Krillin clenched his teeth as he became absorbed in the pale blue eyes staring him in the face. He was in danger that very moment, he realized. The entire Gero family was amazingly skilled in fighting and grappling, and Krillin was certain he wouldn't stand a chance against her in a physical fight, though he didn't care to admit to being overpowered by a woman. If she decided to follow through on her threat, he knew he was finished. The suspense made him weak in the knees, yet after their stare held for a longer amount of time, he suspected she had no intention of harming him.

He swallowed nervously, before raising his chin. "Then why don't you?"

Eighteen clenched her jaw tightly and bore her blue eyes into his dark, daring ones. The man never failed to surprise her. She had no idea how he could so often appear so weak, humble and cowardly, yet suddenly become so bold in moments like this. She found it especially impressive, given that she and he both knew he had no chance against her. Did he really see that much good in her, that he would trust her not to harm him? Or did he think he was just calling her bluff because killing him wouldn't serve Eighteen's best interests?

That was the truth, after all. Killing the sheriff would result in his vacant position being filled by someone else-most likely his vain deputy-who might not be as amenable to the Gero family bribery. No, Krillin was the perfect sheriff for the town-the Geros liked him in that position of power, and Eighteen honestly would find any replacement sheriff much less entertaining to fuck with than Krillin. When Eighteen pulled back to stand upright, she frowned at Krillin's victorious smile.

Eighteen glanced at the jail cell behind her. "You could throw me in there if you're _really_ that torn up about the brawl Seventeen and I started last week, or if you feel the need to make me pay for the stolen horse we're holding out front."

Krillin clenched his fists and shook his head at Eighteen in refusal, yet his fingers behind the desk cautiously reached for the gun planted beneath it. "Eighteen," Krillin sighed, "please return the horse to its owner."

Eighteen smiled and took a step back. "So you're not interested in the purchase. We'll find another buyer."

She turned to leave, while Krillin gripped his gun firmly and felt a bead of sweat falling down his temple. The right thing to do would be to point that gun at Eighteen, order her into that cell, and do the same to her brother and cousin out there, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't just because of the money Dr. Gero paid him for this, or the fear of what the skilled band of criminals might do in their defense.

He truly meant what he'd said to Eighteen. He blamed the father for their wayward tendencies. It had to be his influence, because Krillin could see good in every one of them. The younger Geros were just too mischievous and confident for their own good. He'd hate to see anything happen to them, especially Eighteen. But he just knew they couldn't keep this up forever. Eventually, they were bound to cross the wrong person, who would put them in their place. _That_ thought bothered Krillin even more than the guilt of continuing to let them carry on unpunished for their crimes.

* * *

As soon as Goku arrived in the afternoon heat at the barn where his old gang was waiting, he jumped off his horse and punched his brother in the face. When the two fell to wrestle on the hard ground, Goku felt surprised by his own actions. The violent approach was not at all how he had planned to announce his arrival to the Saiyans, but he couldn't deny that the pained expression on his brother's face made him feel just a little better.

When Nappa roughly tugged Goku off Raditz before he could land another hit, Vegeta conveniently stood aside, not bothering to shield Goku from the reciprocating punch that came from his brother. Goku growled in frustration as he felt his lip tear open from the strike of Raditz's fist.

"Enough!" Vegeta shouted before Raditz's other fist could hit Goku again.

Raditz held his raised fist in mid-air and glanced warily over his shoulder at Vegeta standing with arms crossed behind him. Vegeta should have stayed out of it. This was between him and Kakarot. But unlike his brother, Raditz wasn't willing to go up against Vegeta. Reluctantly, he lowered his fist to his side.

"Dammit, Nappa! Let me go!" Goku wrestled free of Nappa's tight hold while glaring at his brother.

When Nappa released Goku, he held his hands up and laughed at the scene playing out before him. "It's starting to feel like the old gang's all back together now!"

Vegeta chuckled. "It certainly does. Are you ready to get to work, Kakarot?"

Goku ignored Vegeta and bared his teeth at Raditz. "I can't believe even _you_ would stoop this low, Raditz. I want my son back!"

Nappa grasped Goku's shoulder. "All in good time, Kakarot."

"The little shrimp's fine." Vegeta said. "It's this heist that needs your full attention now."

"Yeah," Raditz chuckled, "you should know better than to think I'd hurt my own nephew, Kakarot!" As Goku's angry gaze remained, a lewd smile spread across Raditz's face. "Maybe what you're really worried about is whether I laid my hands on that cute little wife of yours."

Goku's eyes widened at his brother's heinous suggestion. He hadn't considered that before, but seeing how upset Chi-Chi was and how strong she could be, it was possible that Raditz did something she hadn't mentioned to Goku while focused on Gohan. With that thought, Goku growled and lunged for Raditz, but Vegeta had already lunged between the brothers to avoid the foreseeable fighting that would resume from that comment. As Nappa shook his head and rolled his eyes, Goku continued seething at Raditz.

Raditz smirked. "Relax, Kakarot. I didn't touch your wife."

Vegeta watched the interaction between his men intently. All of them could be powerful and reliable at times, but if any of them were nearly as capable as himself, he wouldn't ever be expected to tolerate something like this. It was times like these that made Vegeta appreciate his own brother running away years ago, and his parents' deaths. He didn't need the kind of family shit Kakarot and Raditz were dealing with. Vegeta was just fine on his own. As long as he could get this job finished and get out of here fast enough to save his hide.

Vegeta glared at Goku. "As much as I'd love to watch the two of you bash each other's heads in, I need you both for something else right now. Now," he pointed at Goku, "you are not getting your kid back until this job is finished successfully, so listen up, and listen well!"

Goku clenched his jaw and shook his head while glaring at Vegeta. Goku didn't care about their job. He only was there because he wanted his son returned to him, and he wanted them to leave him be. However, he knew his old accomplices would hold to their word about refusing to return Gohan until after the heist was a success. It looked like he was back in the business of robbery, whether he liked it or not. And given the target, he particularly disliked the robbery business at this moment more than ever.

Vegeta smiled. "The bank is in the center of town."

"I know where it is." Goku interrupted irritably.

"So, we will walk right through the town unnoticed..."

The others nodded attentively as Vegeta continued discussing his plan, while back in West City, a carriage was arriving that afternoon.

* * *

Two black horses pulling a carriage trotted past a small black-haired, blue-eyed girl playing ball outside Champ's bawdry house, as she often did, and then the town bank, to stop outside an undeveloped plot of land. The people on the street curiously observed the carriage to see who would emerge, as they always did. Mark Satan smoked a cigar and observed from his usual vantage point of his outdoor balcony. Across the way, Tien Shinhan and Chiaotzu emerged from their saloon to get a closer look at the new arrivals. One woman on the street stopped and clasped her hands together with poise as she stood before the carriage with curious blue eyes, prepared to welcome the newcomers.

When the first man stepped out of the carriage, Bulma unclasped her hands and smiled. She found the man tall and extremely handsome. His appearance was quite polished for a man who'd just finished a long, treacherous journey. His long hair was swept back and braided, while his eyes set on Bulma with a charming smile gracing his face that made her heart rate quicken.

The man's eyes quickly drew upwards, where several whores were joining Mr. Satan on his balcony to look upon their handsome new arrival. Bulma frowned at his obvious distraction by the sight, until the movement in the carriage behind him drew her attention. As the first man stepped off the carriage to ground level, the second, his opposite in appearance, stepped out. He was fat, scowling, and his skin was grotesque with an odd, pinkish hue. Bulma couldn't prevent the sneer of displeasure that formed on her face at the sight of him.

He placed his hands on his wide hips and looked around appraisingly at his surroundings. "Well, Zarbon, I'd say we can build our saloon right about here."

"Yes," his companion agreed with a half-smile, "I certainly don't foresee much trouble from the competition around here. This'll be a wonderful expanse of Lord Frieza's empire."

"Won't he be pleased?" The other agreed with a sly smile.

"Excuse me." Bulma stepped forward after overhearing their conversation. "You gentlemen are new to West City. I'm curious what your intentions are here?"

Zarbon raised his brows before settling his expression into a smile. "Why, yes. We're looking to build here, Miss...?"

"Brief," Bulma extended her hand, which Zarbon suavely grabbed and kissed, "Bulma Brief. My parents own the hotel in town, The Capsule Hotel," she pointed towards a large building in the distance down the road, "you might want to take a look if you'll be in need of a place to stay while you build."

Zarbon and the other man followed her gaze to the large, prominent building. "Yes, thank you." Zarbon said.

Bulma smiled proudly. "My pleasure."

"My name is Midori Zarbon and my associate here is Ross Dodoria."

Bulma's eyes widened. "What exotic names!"

Dodoria chuckled. "Yes, we aren't Americans. Our employer shall be following shortly after we've setup and developed our business here, Miss Brief."

"Well," Bulma smiled slyly, "if you have an employer investing in your business, you must have need for capital. Why don't you head to our bank and secure a loan to get things moving with your... _saloon_ , was it, Mr. Dodoria?"

"Yes. We'll be building a saloon, as we've done successfully in several other cities." Dodoria smirked up at the frowning bawdry house owner on the balcony, then the scrutinizing, bald bartender leaning against a column outside the West City Saloon. "Shouldn't be difficult here."

As an elderly man staggered towards Bulma to join the conversation, Bulma pointed a finger, "Bank's right over there. Mr. King can fix you up with just about any amount you need, as long as you've got something to put up for capital."

"Mr. King?" Zarbon repeated.

The old drunk stumbled conveniently into the cleavage-enhanced bosom of the glaring woman and then turned to chuckle in the men's faces. "The man who owns the bank! Who else would give you money to build in this piss pot town?"

"Mr. Roshi!" Bulma exclaimed as she recoiled from and inwardly fumed at the older man, before smiling apologetically at the newcomers.

"I see." Zarbon nodded and rubbed his chin. "I suppose first we should get settled and cleaned up, Dodoria. It's been a long ride."

"Right." Dodoria said. "It was nice meeting you, Miss Brief. And you, Mr. Roshi."

As the pair walked away, Bulma and Roshi both frowned at their backs. The two of them were certain by the way Dodoria had spoken that Dodoria's words were completely insincere. Roshi suspected the pair would be trouble in the little town. Bulma could understand the men finding displeasure in their acquaintance with Mr. Roshi, but she was affronted by the thought of any man being unhappy about meeting _her,_ which seemed impossible to comprehend.

"The bank is worth checking into, Dodoria." Zarbon muttered to his counterpart as the men walked away shoulder to shoulder.

"Right. If those Saiyans are anywhere near here, that's a more likely place than any to find them."

"There, and at that whore house."

"Zarbon," Dodoria smirked, "don't be making excuses to head over that way. What would Lord Frieza think if he arrives to find you spending more time tending to your prick than your job?"

Zarbon frowned. "He won't be arriving for quite a while at least, Dodoria. Until then, we can check out this little bank and build our saloon. I don't see anything wrong with a little recreation in the meantime."

"Right." Dodoria smiled at the sight of the intensely scowling bald bartender as they passed the saloon, "and we can scope out the competition in the meantime as well. Maybe ruffle some feathers."

Zarbon chuckled deviously at the remark, while Dodoria laughed. As they passed the saloon to face towards the Capsule Hotel, Dodoria could see that their arrival already had the West City businessmen worried, and these people didn't even know what they were in for yet. When he passed more pathetic citizens on the street to enter the front door of the hotel, he could feel the eyes of the people continuing to watch him and Zarbon. But he didn't care. In a matter of months, he would be putting the competition out of business.

Tien watched the pair disappear behind the closing Capsule Hotel doors with a hardening glare. As longstanding manager of the West City Saloon, he knew when competition was coming that would be a threat, and these new people seemed the type to know what they were doing even moreso than Mark Satan did when he built his bawdry house. At least in the case of _that_ competition, he had Launch keeping an eye on things for him. But if this pair opened a thriving business to be ran by the infamous Lord Frieza, he would need to plant another spy. He had no options yet, but he knew what it would take for his business to survive. Beside him, he could hear Chiaotzu whimper in dismay, while one of his best customers stumbled past on the street with his gaze locked on the Capsule Hotel. Tien would have offered for the man to come in for a drink, but it was apparent Roshi had had enough already.

Roshi frowned as he reached for the support of a column outside the saloon, just past where Tien and Chiaotzu stood. Even in his drunken haze, he was feeling especially wary about the pair that had just entered the Capsule Hotel. With their arrival so closely following the recent Saiyan sighting in town, he knew this was no coincidence. He also knew the difference between someone well-intentioned and someone who wasn't. If they were as bad as they seemed, Roshi didn't want to imagine what their boss would be like. And if these people would be as much trouble as he was assuming, Roshi was worried that Krillin and Yamcha wouldn't be able to handle the threat.

Courageous and well-meaning as the those two could be, there were certain people in the West that Roshi knew they were no match for-like the Saiyans. The only person Roshi had ever met in West City who he thought could handle _any_ enemy was Goku. That man had been like a son to him, ever since his arrival in West City. And he was capable and confident. But for some reason, Roshi suddenly realized, he also seemed to be missing in action.

Roshi furrowed his brows as he searched the street for any signs of Goku, who would usually be out there with his curious son to meet the newcomers face to face whenever there was an arrival. Goku's absence was unusual, but Roshi quickly shook it off, realizing there were plenty of reasons for him to be elsewhere. The young man was probably off in the woods somewhere gathering firewood, or at home behind closed doors, busy enjoying his lovely young wife. That's where Roshi would've been anyways, if he were in Goku's shoes. A small smile emerged on Roshi's face only briefly at that thought, before the whinnying of the pair of horses at the carriage drew his attention back to reality.

With a serious frown and as much of a clear head as he was about to have in his inebriated state, he refocused his gaze straight ahead and proceeded towards home, deep in thought over the troublesome arrival. He furrowed his brows as he passed by the Capsule Hotel with one last glance, concerned about what the Briefs might have to deal with there, and what the town would face when the boss arrived.


	5. Suspicious Behavior

The West City Saloon was a popular place in town for gossip. It was also where most underhanded schemes were concocted in town, if only for the reliable discretion of its bartender and waiter, which could _not_ be said of the bawdry house owner. If it hadn't been for that element, Champs might've been the preferred place for such meetings. But as it stood, one of those particular unofficial meetings was occurring the day after the arrival of Dodoria and Zarbon.

Mr. Roshi, who had been quietly drinking and observing the conversation from his seat at the bar, shifted in his seat as he listened to Krillin and Yamcha discussing the reputations of the mysterious new arrivals in town. Roshi still couldn't figure out what business those men had in West City. As Tien and Chiaotzu began recounting the arrival of the men's carriage and their surly attitudes upon meeting Roshi and even the beautiful Miss Brief, Roshi frowned.

He knit his brows before injecting himself in the conversation. "How do you suppose they'd come by West City, if they've been setting up shop all over the western frontier already?"

The sheriff propped an elbow casually against the bar. "You mean their saloons?"

"Yeah," Yamcha interjected before Roshi could respond, "if they've been at it for that long, why would they bother here? We're pretty far from most of the settlements out here, and if they're so heavily into the business, they should've known that we have a successful bawdry house and saloon already."

"I don't know, Yamcha." Krillin shook his head, removing his hat to scratch his bald scalp. "Maybe-"

"There are other elements at play." An unexpected voice piped in from the doorway.

The others turned to face Dodoria as he entered the saloon with Zarbon by his side. The slender man took a seat at a table near the door and casually propped his feet on an empty chair, while the heftier man approached the bar with heavy footsteps. The others watched him intently as he looked directly at Tien.

"Whiskey for me and my associate." Dodoria said before turning his back to the bar to face the others. "We have our reasons for coming here, and we _are_ aware of the existing competition."

Tien scowled at Dodoria from behind the bar as he poured the two drinks. The man had a lot of nerve coming into his establishment and talking so casually about his competition. No one was putting his saloon out of business, no matter how popular Lord Frieza's establishments could be. Tien slid the whiskey glasses across the bartop with a grating, audible skid. "Here."

Dodoria turned and caught the sliding glasses in each hand. "Thanks."

"I just don't understand it, Mr. Dodoria." Yamcha said as he lowered his hat and politely met Dodoria's gaze. "What reasons do you have for coming _here_?"

Dodoria exchanged a glance with Zarbon, who was frowning at him from across the bar. They couldn't come right out and tell the people they were in search of the Saiyan bandits who had stolen thousands of dollars from Lord Frieza. The townspeople _could_ be friendly with the Saiyans, or paid off to keep their mouths shut, or more likely scared for their lives to betray the reckless fucks. No, this situation required tact.

Dodoria smiled slyly as he turned to face the town's deputy. "Seeing that we are up against so much in this town, being the newcomers and still building and all, perhaps you could give us some advice so our chances of success don't look so grim."

Zarbon let out a curt chuckle. He knew where Dodoria was going with this, and all he would have to do was sit back and watch as the people told Dodoria everything they needed to know.

Yamcha knit his brows into a dubious expression. "What advice could _we_ possibly give you?"

"Well," Dodoria sipped his whisky and assumed a casual stance towards Krillin and Yamcha, "you two are the lawmen in town. When we _are_ up and running..."

Yamcha and Krillin exchanged a glance when the large man allowed his phrase to linger while taking another sip of his whiskey. Krillin felt suspicious of this conversation's direction, although it outwardly appeared friendly enough.

"Let's," Dodoria sighed, "just say we've had issues in the past with thievery and hustlers getting the best of our businesses."

Krillin grunted in surprise. "Oh. I'm...sorry to hear that."

Zarbon smiled. "It's not a big deal. We always recover our losses in the end." He paused to light a cigarette and toss his head back. "But it is _such_ a nuisance. We like to avoid future instances where we can."

With a pensive gaze fixed on that smug man smoking his cigarette and acting as if he owned the bar, Roshi nodded along with the others. The way both new men spoke came across as cryptic, and Roshi knew there was more behind their presence. He only wished he knew what they were after.

Dodoria loudly thumped his empty whiskey glass on the bar. "So, how about it?"

Krillin raised his brows. "How 'bout what?"

"Any outlaws frequent this town? Card hustlers we should be wary of?"

"Mmmm," Krillin grimaced and exchanged a glance with Roshi, "h-hustlers?"

He really didn't want to inform them about Goku. Yeah, he knew his friend played a little too well for it all to be honest, but for the most part, it was a harmless crime. Goku never drove anyone to turning their pockets inside out, and he was a good guy, deep down. Krillin didn't feel it would be fair to draw the newcomers' attention to him.

"Yeah." Dodoria said. "Hustlers. Outlaws."

"It's funny you mention that." Yamcha said pensively, causing both Krillin and Roshi to cringe. "We just had a new outlaw show his face in town a few days ago-a Saiyan."

Krillin clenched his teeth before speaking in a rush. "We also have the Gero gang living here; surely you've heard of them."

Roshi nodded fervently. "And one troublesome savage. This isn't the best town to hope to setup a thriving business right now."

Zarbon smirked at Dodoria and rose to his feet in one swift motion. "We'll manage. Right, Dodoria?"

"Right." Dodoria chuckled, before nodding his bald head towards Krillin. "Thank you for your candid answers."

Zarbon turned to Tien, "And for your hospitality. This really is a nice saloon. I'd almost feel bad for putting it out of business."

Zarbon turned to leave, snickering through his teeth. When he pushed the saloon doors open and a wave of fresh air swept past him, Dodoria stepped noisily by his side. He stilled for a moment as the saloon doors swung, clacked and creaked behind them until they eventually stopped.

Zarbon sighed and loosened the bandanna around his neck to find reprieve from the heat. "Well, we'd better hurry and send a telegram before they get too riled up in there."

"Heh," Dodoria crossed his arms and chuckled, "there's always one idiot who gives us all the answers we need."

"Yes," Zarbon agreed as he descended the rickety porch steps to land his boots on the dirt street, "but still, we need to hurry before word of _our_ presence gets back to the Saiyans, which can happen just as easily."

"Right. You remember Lord Frieza's instructions?"

"How could I forget?" Zarbon said crossly as they walked toward the nearby newspaper and telegraph office, "I can't believe he wants to get the Ginyus involved in this. We could take out the Saiyans ourselves."

"Now don't be bitter, Zarbon. They escaped us once. Lord Frieza doesn't want to take any chances this time. Ginyus are highly trained, organized and notorious throughout the country for getting the job done."

Zarbon crossed his arms and scowled. "I still don't like it."

"Ugh," Dodoria grumbled, "we'll be busy with building the saloon anyways. What do we want to waste our time chasing Saiyans for? I say _let_ the Ginyus deal with it."

"I guess you're right." Zarbon grumbled as his eyes set on a somber, dark-haired lady and large man in a suit who passed on the street, walking arm in arm.

"Is that...the bank owner?"

"Hm?" Dodoria asked as he followed Zarbon's gaze. "Mr. King. That's him."

"Is that his...wife?"

Dodoria's eyes scanned the young woman's slender frame. "Pff. Daughter, more likely."

Zarbon sneered. "What's _she_ have to be so upset about? Tired of being rich and pampered?"

"Probably her time of the month." Dodoria chuckled.

Whatever her reason, Zarbon had never seen a woman in such a fortunate and wealthy position looking so down in the dumps. People like himself had much greater problems, such as the probability that his boss might kill him if he let the Saiyans slip through his fingers. Those Ginyus had better hurry and take the Saiyans down, or it would be Zarbon and Dodoria's asses on the line. With one last irritated glance at the high class, despondent pair of bank owners, Zarbon reached for the door of the telegram office. "Hm."

Chi-Chi turned her head quickly towards the irritable hum of the man entering the telegraph office behind her. She furrowed her brows suspiciously, feeling almost certain the men had been watching her, or talking about her, but when they were gone from sight, she decided it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to matter in town anymore. The whole place could go down in flames for all she cared.

Aside from her father, her entire world was now outside of town. She'd been praying for Goku to succeed in retrieving Gohan, but a whole day had nearly passed and she had no way of knowing anything about the two of them. If Gohan didn't return to her safely, she would go after that Piccolo and the entire gang of Saiyans herself- _including_ her husband-to teach them all a lesson for putting an innocent child in danger. She didn't care what the risk might be.

For now, she had to hold her tongue and carry on normally, so Goku's work for the Saiyans could succeed in the safe return of Gohan. Interfering would only endanger her son. She had to be strong for Gohan, which meant remaining silent and acting like a lady without a care in the world as she helped her father at the bank.

She hadn't even told _him_ the truth of what had happened to her family. Gohan and Goku were 'on a spontaneous father-son fishing trip' as far as anyone else knew. The secret was an incredibly difficult burden to bear. Taking down the Saiyans and Piccolo single-handedly was a challenge she'd much rather face at the moment. At least while working numbers at the bank, she could secretly pray that Gohan was not being harmed or tormented while in the hands of that brutal savage. All she could do for them was pray, and _that_ she would continue to do vehemently.

* * *

The forest was quiet, calm and serene as they walked, as it typically was in the daytime without human population around for miles. The horse broke the quiet with a nicker, causing Piccolo to turn his head and give the animal a reassuring pat.

A hard, crunching smash from behind him was immediately followed by an exclamation from the small boy. "Ow!"

Piccolo raised his brows to glance behind him. But when he noted the boy had simply tripped over something on the leaf-and-twig-littered forest floor, he dismissed the incident and continued walking.

"Mr. Piccolo! Wait!"

Piccolo's shoulders tensed when he hesitated in his footsteps. "Get up." He resumed walking, even as the boy whined from behind him.

"Mr. Piccolo!"

Piccolo sneered and continued walking. Nighttime was nearing. They needed to make their way to a better location for setting up camp. There was no time to slow down over some clumsiness and a scraped knee.

Gohan climbed to his feet and brushed himself off, shaking off the pained grimace from his face as he watched Mr. Piccolo disappearing in the distance. He didn't want his new, strict caretaker to turn around to see the look on his face. Gohan had learned by now that Mr. Piccolo was not at all like his parents or his grandfather. Mr. Piccolo was more likely to give him a heavier load to carry than to tend to his wounds.

Already, Gohan felt that the canvas bag of horse feed and carrots strapped across his chest with a thick strap of leather was too much for a child his size. He also felt that Mr. Piccolo would disagree with that thought. He missed his mom and dad. It had been nearly two days now, and Gohan was dreading spending another night sleeping on the hard, scratchy ground beside the fire.

"This place is as good as any."

Gohan perked at Piccolo's words when the man stopped walking and actually gave Gohan the chance to catch up. Gohan was surprised to realize that he wasn't really that far behind Piccolo anymore. Somehow, he was moving faster, even though his scraped knee and sore feet were still throbbing. With a grunt, Gohan peeled the heavy strap over his head, which pulled on his hair and lip until it was clear and he was able to drop the heavy load to the ground with a rewarding thump. He looked up to see Piccolo tying the horse's reins to a tree and studying Gohan, as if he had been in a trance for a while.

Gohan frowned self-consciously. "What?"

Piccolo clenched his teeth before turning to remove their sack of supplies from the horse's back. "You'll need to wash that scrape." He lifted his chin towards the narrow gap between the pine trees. "River's that way."

Gohan lowered his gaze to furrow his brows at the deep scratches littering his injured knee through the hole of his torn pants. He grimaced at the bloody sight, not only because of the injury, but because he knew his mother would throw a fit if she saw what he'd done to his nice pants. Then he lifted his brow to warily eye the darkening, dense path Piccolo indicated, where he neither saw nor heard any trace of a river. One glimpse of Mr. Piccolo, though, made him hurry for the path, before he could be yelled at for moving too slowly. He'd have to maneuver through the forest on his own for a short distance, and hope he'd make it back without getting lost.

When Gohan's scuffling footsteps passed him, Piccolo glanced up discreetly as the boy hustled down the path. That kid had taken a worse fall than he initially thought, though Piccolo wouldn't admit as much. He didn't want to give the kid rights to complain. Actually, he was impressed with the kid. Pampered baby he was, the brat still managed to finish that trek without any further blubbering. Piccolo twisted his lip pensively as he eyed the spilled bag of supplies at his feet. Gohan's night would be cold after that washing, with that drafty hole in his pants. Piccolo narrowed his gaze at the edge of soft material peeking out from the sack. He figured the least he could do was give the blanket to the kid for the night. Not that he cared whether the kid was comfortable, but Piccolo wouldn't want to risk being stiffed by the Saiyans if he returned the kid sick and Goku Son was displeased.

With a derisive snort, Piccolo peeled the blanket from the sack and waved it in the air with a whoosh that disrupted the quiet of the dusky forest again. He folded it in half, the soft material caressing his fingertips until he stepped over to the patch of ground selected for Gohan's sleeping place, which was devoid of rocks and twigs, unlike most of the forest floor. With ceremonial precision, Piccolo deposited the blanket neatly in its place.

When he heard the approach of small rustling footsteps, Piccolo quickly turned his attention to the rabbit he had killed earlier in the day, attending to the skinning before Gohan returned. He paid no mind as the boy settled in, quietly minding his own business for a change.

When Piccolo concluded the bloody business of preparing his dinner for cooking after a long while, he turned around, surprised to find the boy hunched over a neatly arranged pile of wood and stones.

Piccolo's soft grunt that escaped his lips alerted the boy, who turned to him with the most heartwarming smile anyone had ever directed his way. Stunned that the boy would even give him a smile, Piccolo balked, but that only made the boy's smile widen as his eyes glided meaningfully towards the soft folded blanket on the ground behind him.

Piccolo immediately grunted and sat himself in front of the sloppy arrangement of wood and rocks, scowling when he peered at the boy. "Didn't your father ever teach you how to light a fire?"

In spite of the coarseness of Piccolo's tone, the boy flushed and giggled shyly with a shrug. Piccolo set down the meat on a large stone and grabbed two of the gray rocks from Gohan's makeshift fire setup. He repeatedly cracked the rocks together, creating sparks and sharp clacks as he worked to start a fire. Behind the shadows cast by the quickly diminishing sunlight against the rocks' bright sparks, Piccolo could allow himself to smile. The boy wouldn't see it.

* * *

After the sun departed behind the horizon, the Saiyans were gathered around a fire, eating a fresh kill of desert Coyote. Goku was hungry enough to eat just about anything, though if he weren't stuck in this predicament, he knew he'd be home eating one of his wife's delicious stews instead of this unseasoned, course meat. So would Gohan.

"Ah," Nappa sighed loudly and reclined against the log behind him with a grin, "Damn, I love this."

As Nappa folded his hands across his stomach and licked the remnants of his meal off his lips, Raditz smirked from his seated position across the fire. "The night before a heist always gets your blood boiling, doesn't it?" His eyes flickered to his brother's distant gaze. "Kakarot, you can't tell me you never missed this."

Goku flinched at his brother's address, breaking from his trance to meet the expectant gaze from the familiar pair of black eyes. Truth be told, he would have never admitted to it before now, but in this moment he realized he did miss this, just a little. He'd never give Raditz the satisfaction of knowing that, though.

Goku scowled stubbornly. "Maybe when I was locked away, realizing none of you were coming back-"

"Shut up about that, Kakarot." Vegeta snapped.

Goku glared at Vegeta past the flickering sparks of the fire. "No! You wanted me here, well now you've got me." He smiled. "I'll talk about whatever I damn well please."

Vegeta clenched his jaw at the sight of Kakarot's mocking grin. He just had to bring up shit from the past. Vegeta had no regrets for leaving him behind on that botched heist all those years ago. That was the nature of the game. Gang member or not, no one was going to risk their own fucking life to break out Kakarot, even if he _did_ practically sacrifice himself to keep the rest of them out of harm's way. Vegeta had the group to think of, and there were too many damn lawmen guarding their prized Saiyan capture at the time. If Kakarot was expecting an apology, he'd be waiting a long fucking time.

Vegeta crossed his arms. "Doesn't mean we'll listen."

"I guess you're right." Goku let out a ragged breath and adjusted to a cross-legged seated position. "That's all behind us now. I got myself out, didn't I?"

Raditz lowered his head in shame. He had deserted his brother. A true Saiyan didn't run away from any threat. But Vegeta insisted at the time that his 'weak brother' wasn't worth the risk. Of course, that's because Vegeta didn't give a shit about anyone but himself.

"Right," Vegeta said, "and you seem to have found yourself a situation you prefer over _us_."

"If anything," Goku said with a wry smile, "I should thank you for abandoning me."

Vegeta glared irritably at Kakarot, but Raditz couldn't help grinning at his brother's remark, as Nappa was doing as well. Kakarot tossed another stick into the fire before stretching his arms behind his head and falling back into the makeshift pillow of materials behind him. Raditz sighed and decided to relax as well. They would need all the rest they could get before the big day tomorrow.

"Tomorrow," Vegeta said, mirroring Raditz's thoughts, "we ride for West City at daybreak. If we're early enough, we'll get to the bank before both guards are posted."

"If they give us any trouble," Nappa said, "I get to take them out, right?"

" _If_ they give us any trouble-"

"They won't." Goku interrupted Vegeta with a stern glare. "Just leave them to me. There's no reason for anyone to get hurt in this."

Raditz scoffed. "Why are you so worried about the people in that town, Kakarot?"

Goku gave him a hard glare. "None of _them_ would ever abandon me."

"Is that all?" Vegeta asked, narrowing his eyes at Kakarot. "Or is there more to your reluctance to robbing this bank?"

Vegeta was very suspicious of Kakarot's behavior. His stubborn glare and silence in response to Vegeta's question was only cementing Vegeta's suspicions. This was more than just reluctance to robbing a bank, Vegeta realized as Kakarot relaxed again and closed his eyes in dismissal. Even if this heist broke some newfound moral code of Kakarot's, Vegeta still could see that the younger man was excited for the challenge. He wouldn't have any reason to object further, unless he had another reason for his misplaced loyalty.

After all the history the Saiyans had together, Kakarot should've known to lend his hand when the gang was in a pinch. His choice wouldn't matter after tomorrow, though. Tomorrow, the Saiyans would show West City exactly why their names commanded respect, and they'd walk away rich enough to get away to wherever they chose. There would be no turning back for Kakarot, which was a pleasing thought to Vegeta as he finally laid back and closed his eyes like the others were doing. He needed some shut eye for the big, exciting day tomorrow. And then, he needed the energy to make a run for it and get out of town fast.


	6. At the Crack of Dawn

She sighed and waved her long blond curls over a shoulder as she walked through the thick air of the late night's humidity. She was making her approach from one late-night establishment to another. It was obvious that this place was closing, but Launch knew she'd be allowed in. At the doorway, little Chiaotzu was diligently sweeping up for the night with a broom in his small hands and concentrated expression on his pudgy face.

Launch gave him a wink. "Hey, Chiaotzu. Where's the boss?"

"Oh. He's been waiting for you." Chiaotzu ceased sweeping, smiled politely, and supported his weight with the broom. "Busy night tonight?"

Launch gave him a wink in wordless answer as she passed, heading to the bar. A girl didn't have to reveal every detail about herself, especially not to someone who would go blabbering about it to Tien. When Launch looked towards the bar again, she saw that Tien stood waiting, a drink already poured for her as their eyes met.

Launch took a seat and smiled slyly at his handsome face. "Hey, handsome."

"You're late." Tien said with furrowed brows and a tone of mild concern. "Any problems tonight?"

Launch smirked. "You know _I'm_ the one that causes problems, Baby."

Tien chuckled sheepishly before taking a swig from his own glass. "Yes, you are."

Launch pulled a cigarette from her cleavage and stuck it between her teeth. "Some new guy came to the establishment tonight. Satan was scared shitless of him."

Tien's brows rose high as he struck a match. "Really?"

"Yeah," Launch grunted as Tien extended the small flame towards her to light her cigarette. "But who _isn't_ that cowardly braggart scared of? He's such a pussy."

"Launch," Tien shook his head, "I need you to focus. Just tell me what I need to know."

Launch exhaled a heavy plume of smoke as her posture deflated in disappointment with Tien's down-to-business attitude. Tien wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant burning sensation scorching his nose, but then he willingly allowed the smoke to fill his lungs as well without offense.

Chiaotzu had resumed sweeping near the door, but he began making his way towards the bar as he eavesdropped on Launch and Tien's conversation. Tien felt a small smile tug at his face as he inconspicuously recognized what Chiaotzu was doing, while his four remaining patrons fortunately kept to themselves.

Roshi and Oolong were nearly passed out, draping themselves over the countertop at the far end of the long bar which spanned the length of the saloon, while Zarbon and Dodoria were seated at a distant round table, invested in an intense conversation of their own over their saloon plans. The only noise Tien was really hearing from anyone else were a few murmurs of their conversation and the hollow thumping noise from Dodoria's foot tapping against the wooden floor.

"To be honest," Launch took a long drag from her cigarette, "that bastard kinda scared _me_ , too."

Tien's eyes widened, as did Chiaotzu's. They couldn't believe what they'd just heard. Launch was rarely afraid of anyone, and hardly would admit to it. It was obviously a difficult confession she'd just made, judging by the look on her face.

Launch scowled as she crushed her cigarette against the countertop and watched the final plumes of smoke escape from the snuffed tip. "I got a bad feeling, Tien."

"Launch," Tien narrowed his eyes and leaned across the bar, "is that man in the bar right now?"

As Tien looked meaningfully towards Zarbon and Dodoria, the men who had been giving him bad vibes since their arrival, Launch peeked in that direction warily, before letting out a dismissive laugh and reaching for her glass. "Those goons? I ain't scared of them. They've been coming into Champs, too, though. I haven't serviced them myself, yet. The built one is easy on the eyes, but the fat ones in bed are always-"

"Launch," Tien hid the fierce blush rising to his cheeks with a glare, "I don't need to hear about... _that_."

Launch smirked. "You sure? That _is_ the best part of what I do, Handsome. I could show you a thing or two."

Tien grunted and quickly changed the subject. "Did Zarbon or Dodoria speak of anything I should know about? They're planning on building a saloon here. I don't plan on being put out of business."

"Sorry." Launch shrugged. "I didn't hear anything from them. I'll keep my ears open, though. I'm sure they'll be around again. I can volunteer to take one of them next time they come to Champs if you want. It'll give me more of a chance to question them."

Tien grimaced. He hated to acknowledge Launch's profession, but it did get the job done, and he did need to know. "Do that, then."

Launch smiled slyly at Tien. She knew he had feelings for her, buried away somewhere. She just couldn't understand why he had to be so damn disciplined and resistant to her charms. "Alright."

Tien took a deep breath as Launch finished her drink and then placed the empty glass on the bar with a subtle, but sensual movement to her shoulders. Her cleavage was nearly impossible not to stare at in her tight corset. Tien wondered why he cursed himself with having such a close association with a sexy woman who would always come around dressed as a whore, and who was always determined to tempt him. He couldn't afford distractions, though. That would lead to weakness, and weaknesses he couldn't afford, not right now. "What's the name of this other guy you mentioned?"

Launch raised a brow. "His name? I don't know. I just overheard him talking to Satan before one of our girls took him upstairs. He was looking for a blonde."

"A blonde?" Chiaotzu balked.

Launch narrowed her eyes at Chiaotzu for the interruption and continued. "But when he saw all the blondes Champ's had to offer, he seemed displeased. Pff," Launch blew her bangs out of her eyes, "like _I_ ain't somethin' special."

Tien lowered his chin and shook his head. From the way Launch was describing this guy, it seemed she should have been relieved that he didn't take an interest in her. He couldn't understand her reason for complaining.

"Then, for some reason," Launch furrowed her brows, "he started asking a lot of questions about the Geros. That's when he started giving me the creeps."

Launch paused as she recalled standing there, lined up with the other blonde whores, and looking up to meet the man's intense gaze. His eyes probably gave her the creeps as much as his demeanor. She could feel that all the girls were scared of the guy. Even worse than _their_ reaction, Mark Satan kept a safe distance from his newest customer.

Launch scoffed. "Satan was practically shaking in his boots by the time the guy headed upstairs with Hasky. I hope she's alright."

Chiaotzu gaped as he propped his broom against the wall, feeling concerned by the distant, pensive look of fear on Launch's face. Something definitely wasn't right. Launch had good instincts and was practically fearless. This was a real problem. Chiaotzu thought there were enough issues with the Saiyan and the new saloon entrepreneurs coming into town. Now some creepy guy was around that wanted something with the infamous Geros. None of this looked good for Tien and his business, let alone West City. But Chiaotzu was determined not to let anything happen to him and his friend.

Tien sighed. "You really think this guy's capable of hurting an innocent girl?"

Launch smirked, though there was sadness in her eyes. "We ain't exactly _innocent_ , Tien. Maybe this guy's some sort of idealist vigilante. Makes sense, if he's looking for the Geros."

Chiaotzu took a deep breath and released it heavily enough to draw Tien and Launch's attention. When they both turned their heads to look at him, the familiar sounds of a swinging saloon door and footsteps against wooden floorboards sounded from behind him. In his peripheral vision, he saw Dodoria and Zarbon standing from their table to leave. When Chiaotzu followed the moving pair with his eyes, the tall figure in the doorway drew his attention.

Launch gasped when she recognized the tall man entering the saloon. Immediately, she tugged on Tien's collar, without even removing her gaze from the doorway. "That's him."

Chiaotzu and Tien exchanged a wary glance. They both knew they'd have to approach this guy carefully. Already, the man in a black jacket and matching sage green suit and Stetson hat was showing a lot of nerve by walking into the saloon when it was obviously past closing time. He didn't even flinch when Zarbon and Dodoria cockily strode past him. He definitely had a domineering presence, but Chiaotzu swallowed his nerve and marched towards the man with determination. This was his and Tien's place, and Tien was otherwise engaged. It was up to Chiaotzu to tell the guy to leave.

Tien watched closely as his small, defenseless friend approached the intimidating presence in their doorway. Tien was already on guard. Obviously, Launch was worried as well, which really had him unnerved. He spoke in a rushed whisper. "Anything else you can tell me about him?"

Launch grunted. "Unfortunately, no. He's pretty fucking mysterious."

"Great." Tien huffed.

They watched as Chiaotzu exchanged a few brief words with the man, who seemed to speak cordially enough, before his eyes lit on Tien. Tien balked at the surprising, direct attention he received from the newcomer, but then diverted his attention to Launch when Chiaotzu approached them and the stranger took a seat near the doorway.

"Tien?"

"Launch, do me a favor and help Chiaotzu get Roshi and Oolong cleared outta here. Then go home and check on the girl, Hasky."

Launch's eyes widened as she recognized the intensity in Tien's voice, in combination with the warning behind his words. If Tien was so serious about her checking on Hasky, then he had to be thinking the same way she was. She was definitely worried about what she would find back at Champs, but she was even more worried about what could happen at the West City Saloon after she left.

Just before Chioatzu was within earshot, Launch seized Tien harshly by the back of his neck. "Don't you dare let me find bad news when I come back here tomorrow. You hear me, Tien?"

As Launch glared at Tien, Tien's gaze remained intensely trained on the dark stranger. The mysterious man was radiating confidence from the shadowed corner of the saloon and lighting a cigar. His gaze wasn't diverting from Tien at all.

"Tien," Chiaotzu said before Tien could respond to Launch's heartfelt threat, "he refused to leave. Wouldn't even tell me his name. He wants to speak to you."

Launch grunted in dismissal, giving Tien one last glare, before pushing out of her seat and harshly kicking Roshi's barstool to wake the old man from his drunken stupor.

"Go help Launch, Chiaotzu. I've got this."

Chiaotzu glared. "Be careful, Tien."

As Chiaotzu meaningfully pulled back his jacket to reveal the gun concealed at his belt, Tien gave his friend a firm nod and made his way around the bar. He slid his hand along the rough wood of the bartop as he approached the doorway of the saloon, where the stranger was sitting and staring.

Slyly, Tien slid his hand beneath the bar to retrieve his own concealed gun while he made his way past the bar and pocketed it inside his jacket, seemingly escaping the stranger's notice like he hoped.

When he reached the stranger's table, Tien crossed his arms. "I believe my associate told you we were closing."

The stranger released a puff of smoke from his thin lips. The cloud partly concealed his face, with the exception of the devilish, proud smile. "I know. This'll only take a moment."

Tien tensed as his fingers felt for the gun beneath his jacket. It seemed that the stranger's ill intentions could be aimed at him and his saloon. Maybe the man was sent by Zarbon and Dodoria to take out threats to their business. That could be why he was after the Geros. It wouldn't serve the duo well to have thieves in town ripping them off, as the Gero twins had repeatedly ripped off Tien's saloon in the past.

Tien glared. "Nobody's taking down my saloon. This is my town."

The stranger balked in surprise, then let out a loud chortle of a laugh. "I don't care about your stupid saloon! I have much greater ambitions."

Tien raised a brow. "Really? And what would those ambitions be?"

"Now, now." The man smirked. "We hardly know each other. I can't give away all my secrets."

"I assume your purpose here is to seek information if you're really not interested in my saloon. If you want me to tell you anything, then I expect you to tell me something in return."

The stranger smirked, though he looked unamused and totally at ease in spite of Tien's domineering presence. "Fair enough. What do you want to know?"

"How about a name, for a start?"

"They call me Cell." The man smiled boisterously. "'Cause that's where I put 'em."

Tien furrowed his brows in thought. "So you're...a bounty hunter?"

Cell didn't answer. Instead, he glanced outside at the rare sounds of horses passing by at that hour of the night, or early morning as it already was.

Tien followed his gaze to see past the small saloon doors, where Seventeen Gero passed by on horseback. Tien nearly groaned at the sight. Any of _them_ making a move at such an hour was always bad news. There was no doubt that someone was being robbed. But then Tien noticed the way Cell was intently watching Seventeen, even standing from his seat at the sight of him. Recalling Launch's limited information on Cell, Tien narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man.

If Cell truly was a bounty hunter looking for glory, then Tien knew exactly what brought Cell to West City. This man actually seemed capable of being the Geros' downfall. But if Tien could warn the Geros and get them out of this, maybe he could break a deal with them in exchange for this favor, in order to get an advantage over Zarbon and Dodoria. It would be nice having someone else's saloon robbed for a change, and not his.

Tien placed a hand on Cell's shoulder before he could make a step towards the door. "Have a seat, Cell. I'll tell you whatever you need to know."

Cell glared at Tien's hand, which Tien quickly removed before taking a seat at the table Cell had chosen. Cell grumbled at the silent invitation, taking one last glance out the door before reseating himself. He decided he could take a moment to learn more about his prey before he trapped them. He knew they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

After all, Cell never failed and he had a reputation to uphold. The Geros would be his greatest acquisition yet. The only bounty out there greater than this one proved for years to be impossible for any bounty hunter to find. For this job, there was no room for anything but perfection. His execution of collecting this bounty on the Geros' heads had to be done flawlessly, so everyone in the West would learn and fear his name. He never left a town without every single bounty collected. That was why he started at the whore house, with Hasky. She was easy pickings, but nevertheless, there was a bounty on her head for theft. The more bounties he could absorb, the better.

* * *

With a hearty groan, Nappa rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and opened his tightly shut eyes to the morning sunrise. Sleeping outside was gonna grow old real fast. At least before Kakarot came along, they could all camp out inside the abandoned barn. Last night, they had all passed out around a burnt out campfire.

Today was a new day, though, and it was the day they would rob West City's bank. Nappa knew after this, things would be looking up for him and his fellow Saiyans. His left cheek pulled his expression into a tight smirk as he sat up and reveled in that thought. With a rough shove against the guy sleeping beside him, Nappa climbed to his feet to begin the day's preparations.

Raditz grunted and grumbled his resistance towards the rough shaking of his shoulder. He nearly rolled over and went back to sleep, but once he started drifting, he felt something collide hard with his jaw, knocking his teeth together. Raditz growled furiously as he sat up to glare at the culprit. He spied his brother's bare foot thumping to the ground.

"Kakarot!" Raditz returned the favor by kicking his deeply sleeping brother in the sternum. "You and your goddamn flailing limbs! I should break that fucking foot!"

Goku sat up with a grunt of pain and opened his eyes with a look of shock, before clutching his chest and glaring at his brother. "Raditz! You know that wasn't intentional!"

"Is that what you tell your wife? How does any woman put up with you?"

Goku smiled smugly. "Easily! I don't see anyone running off to marry _you_."

Growling and scowling incredulously, Vegeta sat up, rudely awakened by their yelling. "You two morons aren't awake for two seconds and you're fighting already?!"

As Vegeta rubbed both hands vigorously over his face after his shout of outrage, Goku and Raditz shut their mouths tightly. Vegeta glared at one brother, then the other. "Is this going to be a problem today?"

"Yes!"

"No!" Raditz shook his head fervently in denial before glaring at his stupid brother for that answer, who was glaring right back at him. Kakarot had better get it through his thick skull that Vegeta could be viciously spiteful when he wanted to, and inciting his anger was unwise.

Vegeta turned his glare on Kakarot's stubborn scowl. "Do I need to remind you that if this heist gets fucked up, your _beloved_ child is going to grow up learning rain dances and tomahawk wielding? That is _if_ that savage allows him to grow up at all."

When a nasty smirk crossed Vegeta's face, Goku felt a growl rising in his throat. He suppressed it, because he knew Vegeta was dead serious about that threat. Vegeta never bluffed.

As Goku clenched his jaw and reigned in his anger with significant difficulty, Vegeta studied him closely before smiling in satisfaction. He knew when he had someone beat, and it felt good as hell to see Kakarot in a position of defeat after all the times the little runt had tried besting him at heists in the past. Of course, Kakarot wasn't such a runt anymore, but that didn't change the fact that he was still inferior. The only thing that displeased Vegeta was the nature of Kakarot's defeat. Holding his kid for ransom wasn't sitting well with Vegeta, because he wanted to prove he was better than Kakarot without him holding back. Maybe _after_ the heist.

"Good." Realizing they'd reached an understanding, Vegeta smirked and rose to his feet. "Let's get moving."

Raditz smiled and brushed the loose particles of dirt off his backside. "Hell, yes."

Goku clenched his fists, remaining temporarily frozen before he closed his eyes and took a meditative breath, while the other two set about collecting their things from around the campfire.

Once calmed, Goku turned to the sack behind him, which held the few items he'd taken with him when he left home. He reached for his revolver and ammo, while Raditz and Vegeta rummaged through their canvas sacks noisily, probably looking for the same thing.

Goku knelt down as he opened the ammo box and set it on the ground. Then he opened the cylinder and spun it, before quickly loading bullets into each empty chamber. Once he was done loading, he tucked it into the holster, which was already at his hip, as he and the rest of the gang hadn't bothered to change out of their clothes for the night.

Goku glared with determination as he stood. He never went to a heist unprepared, and he wasn't about to start getting sloppy. He was more than willing to do whatever was necessary to pull this off. But if everything went right today, he wouldn't need to use any of those bullets. He hoped _no one_ would.

* * *

Along the main street of West City, several people were out and busy beginning their mornings. Past the opening doors of businesses and small groupings of people, the rising sun shone orange and bright along the distant horizon. Vendors were selling their wares from a few street carts, horses were being tied as people dismounted, and doors opened as people of the town appeared from within.

From the main door of Champ's, a young girl with black pigtails emerged in a rush, followed by her father, Mark Satan, who called after her to wait. He was nicely dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase as he placed his hat on his head and nodded to the opening saloon owners across the way, who'd had a very late night. The girl reluctantly slowed to allow her father to catch up.

While the father and daughter joined hands and walked at a comfortable pace towards the schoolhouse, the bank owner and his emotionally weary daughter shuffled past. The young woman frowned somberly towards the schoolhouse, and let out a heavy sigh while the large man accompanying her removed a key from his pocket and proceeded to open the bank. The dwarf who had stumbled home drunk from the West City Saloon the night before followed after them, having menial but honest tasks to perform for basic pay inside the establishment.

Outside the doors of the Capsule Hotel, activity was even busier. The two shady, entrepreneurial newcomers were already on their way to their site to begin their saloon development. The newest arrival in town followed after, astutely observing the Champ's owner and his young daughter as they made their way to school. When Mr. Satan's eyes met the bounty hunter's, Cell smiled, drawing a shiver and offer of future complimentary service from the secretly terrified businessman.

Outside Champs, the working women gathered, loitering sexily as they attempted to drum up some business for the day. The old drunk admired the prostitutes as he clutched a nearby stack of crates for support, recovering from his hangover. He winced from the pain caused by the bright, rising sun and sounds of a group of horses arriving. The thunderous hooves drummed through his ears, and everyone else's on the street, drawing their attention to the sound.

When Cell looked past the horses and their four riders, he spied the town's sheriff and deputy being conspicuously paid off by a conveniently huddled Gero gang.

Others were not distracted by the Geros and their bribery, as the group of men arriving on horseback were a more unusual and distracting vision, especially since the group included Goku, who the locals hadn't seen in the past days.

As the wealthy Brief family curiously emerged from their Capsule Hotel to view the morning's activities, the town's attention was drawn away from the horseback riders when the bounty hunter's voice boomed across the mostly quiet street.

"Geros!" Cell assumed a bold stance and placed his hands meaningfully on the guns at his hips. "You'll have to cancel your plans for the day. You're coming with me."

The oblivious townspeople gaped at the newcomer curiously. The Saiyans took advantage of the moment of distraction to tie up their horses, lower their hats over their eyes, and tie bandannas over their noses and mouths in preparation for their heist. The few people in town who were aware of Cell either braced themselves for trouble, or raced inside for safety. The Geros exchanged disbelieving glances before smiling mockingly at the newcomer.

"I don't know who you think you are," Seventeen called loudly across the distance of the street, "but you're foolishly mistaken if you think you could possibly make us go anywhere we don't want to go."

Eighteen chuckled in agreement with Seventeen, while Sixteen and Dr. Gero narrowed their eyes warily at the daring bounty hunter. Then Dr. Gero gaped in alarm as he recognized all the unwanted attention his gang was receiving from the town. Cell smirked as Seventeen, Sixteen and Eighteen each reached for their guns.

"Seventeen!" Dr. Gero's eyes darted rapidly to all the attentive eyes on them from the streets. "We need to bring this issue inside somewhere private! Don't make us look bad!"

"Shove it, Old man."

Gero balked. "Seventeen! I will not tolerate-"

Cell tilted his head and sighed impatiently at the family squabble. "I'm getting bored! I have a bounty to collect here," he smiled as he pulled out his gun and spun the chamber in his hand, "and it's good whether I collect you dead or alive."

Eighteen's eyes widened as she gasped along with Sixteen and Dr. Gero, but Seventeen held his ground, staring down his antagonist with brazen disregard for his threats. "Dead or alive, huh?"

Cell smirked. "My favorite kind."

The people in town still on the main street began to tremble and become wary as they realized a true gun fight was in the works on their peaceful morning street. As people began scrambling inside to safety, the Saiyans took the opportunity of blending in with the scurrying crowd.

While they made their way into the bank with mischievous smiles concealed behind bandannas, Mr. and Mrs. Brief scurried back into their Capsule Hotel, the prostitutes sheltered themselves in Champ's, the sheriff and deputy found meager shelter behind the bodies of their horses, Satan and his daughter holed themselves up in the schoolhouse, Roshi and the others hurried into Tien's saloon, and Bulma Brief remained outside due to her morbid fascination with the exciting event. She slowly paced away from her parents' hotel, entranced by the tense scene as Cell and the Geros remained with ready fingers on their guns, yet absolutely still.

"Bulma!" Yamcha called across the street from behind his horse, "get inside!"

Gero growled with frustration as he looked at the sheriff and deputy stationed behind their horses, then Bulma Brief staring at the scene his rebellious children and this bounty hunter were making. He didn't want this type of publicity for his family. His cocky son wasn't making matters any better, chasing the town away with this showdown.

"Seventeen! You will withdraw your gun." Gero looked to Cell with a sly smile. "Surely, this man is in this for the money. We can persuade him to change his mind."

Cell smiled widely and holstered his gun. "I can assure you, I'm not in this for the money. Are you surrendering, then?"

As Cell paced towards them, Seventeen growled, irritated by the fact that the man felt confident enough to let his guard down that much while he and his siblings still had their fingers ready on their guns.

Eighteen glared as Cell's eyes met hers. "What is this guy's deal, Seventeen?"

Seventeen snorted dismissively before Sixteen answered in his place. "Don't underestimate him. He knows what he's doing."

Eighteen grunted in surprise, while Gero stepped forward to pry Seventeen's gun from his son's twitchy fingers. When the doctor's cold, wrinkled hands met Seventeen's, Seventeen gripped his gun tighter and threw his free fist into the old man's face, knocking him on the ground. There was _no way_ he was about to let that old man disarm him.

Gero winced when he hit the ground hard. "Seventeen!"

"Stand down, Father." Eighteen said crossly, before shooting a glare over her shoulder towards the ready deputy and sheriff stationed behind them. "Seventeen and I can handle this _ourselves_."

As she stepped beside her brother and turned her back on her father, Cell smiled in amusement at the sight. Perhaps his new targets would give him a more interesting chase than he'd anticipated.

Cell laughed. "Well, you _are_ interesting, aren't you? Dr. Gero, I'm willing to give you a chance to escape. You've proven yourself to be the only member of your family who won't give me an interesting hunt."

Seventeen and Eighteen exchanged a dubious glance, before looking to Sixteen, who stood like a statue, yet shook his head slowly in distrustful disagreement.

Dr. Gero stumbled to his feet, still glaring in disbelief at his rebellious children. He didn't know what had come over them, what had happened to their appreciation after all he'd done for them. But he could tell just by looking at the domineering figure of Cell that he certainly was no match for the bounty hunter.

Since his children had made it clear that they had no intention to protect him, that left him with no other choice. With a frustrated groan, Dr. Gero lunged for the horses behind them, meeting the wide-eyed gazes of the sheriff and deputy just before a gunshot echoed through the quiet street. Everyone's eyes went wide, even Seventeen, Sixteen, and Eighteen's, even though the three of them had been looking directly at the shooter when he fired. He drew his gun so quickly that they hardly registered what they had seen, even after they saw it.

At the sound of the gunshot, realization of the reality of the danger finally set in for Bulma. She squeaked and rushed inside the nearest doorway of West City's bank to seek cover and safety.

Krillin and Yamcha recoiled behind their horses, disgusted by their closeup view of Gero. The old, dying man groaned miserably as blood pooled in his mouth, which he released with a violent cough. Gero's dying eyes burned pleadingly into the futile lawmen as he clutched tightly to the back of the blood-soaked tan horse, before slowly slinking to the ground.

The remaining Geros didn't bother to look behind them at their dying father. They never cared for him anyways. He claimed to have sacrificed so much for them, when he'd really been using them all their lives. He could die alone for all they cared. What did have them trembling was the fact that the man who so effortlessly dispensed of him was obviously after them now.

"Hey!" Krillin hissed to the Geros from behind the horses. "You need to stop this! I don't want anymore bodies on my street!"

Eighteen turned a glare on him, causing the frightened sheriff to shrink behind his horse. Sixteen remained fixated on Cell, who was smiling at the sight of Dr. Gero's limp corpse collapsing on the ground.

Seventeen didn't even look at the sheriff or worry about any crime with which he was about to be charged. He was going to kill this bastard before he thought of killing him and his siblings.

He narrowed his eyes at Cell. "The only other body you're going to see is _this_ guy's."

Cell haughtily crossed his arms and raised his chin, his gun he'd just used to shoot Gero remaining firmly in his grasp. "Don't plan on cooperating? That's too bad, Seventeen. I truly preferred to take you in alive."

Seventeen raised a brow at his confident sister before smirking at Cell. "You're not taking me anywhere, Freak. Let's-"

Before Seventeen could continue, his body was thrust back forcefully by a bullet lodging deep in his chest. Cell cracked a smile as Seventeen's eyes bulged in alarm and pain.

Eighteen shook her head in disbelief as she watched her brother fall to his knees. Cell shot her brother without even telling him to draw. And he was so fast. There was no way that just happened. But Seventeen was bleeding out, and she couldn't deny what her eyes were clearly seeing. She and her twin had been inseparable and indestructible for as long as she could remember. Her father, she could do without. But Seventeen...she couldn't stomach seeing blood dripping from his lips and soaking the thin fabric of his button-front shirt, or the vitality fading from his eyes.

She collapsed on her knees by Seventeen's side, her voice coming out in a choked sob. "Seventeen!"

"Eighteen!" Sixteen called, just before large, strong fingers gripped tightly around her arm. Eighteen clung tightly to her dying brother.

"Eighteen," Seventeen's voice was weak as he cracked his sister a wry smile, "are you really gonna stick around here and let this sick bastard take you down?"

"No!" Eighteen clung to him and vehemently shook her head, even as Sixteen continued to tug on her arm and Cell stalked towards them.

"Eighteen, we have to move!" Sixteen warned.

Seventeen coughed. "Go…Eighteen."

Eighteen glared defiantly at her dying brother, then at his killer stalking towards them. "No! I _won't_ let you kill him! I sure as hell won't let you kill me!"

As Eighteen drew her gun on Cell, he moved faster, shooting directly at her. Fortunately, Sixteen moved almost as fast, diving in front of Eighteen to take the fatally aimed bullet in his shoulder. As Sixteen screamed in pain, Eighteen gasped and shot her gun at Cell, her aim less accurate after Sixteen's interference, but fortunately trained well enough to graze her attacker's ear.

Cell fell back from the surprising force and sharp pain, while Eighteen stood to gather Sixteen's massive body in her arms. "Sixteen!"

Sixteen struggled to his feet, wincing in pain. "We have to move, Eighteen."

Eighteen nodded and forced her heavy, injured brother to his feet with a grunt. Sixteen stumbled away from Cell as quickly as he could with Eighteen's support, while Eighteen took a wary glance back at the bounty hunter climbing to his feet with a furious glare, and then a final look at her dying brother. She fought the tears that threatened to come to her eyes. She'd never shed tears for anyone. She was too strong to start now, while in the middle of a crisis. Of course, the crisis wasn't going to last long at the pace they were moving.

The surprising sound of three consecutive gunshots, and then a single, more distant gunshot made Eighteen's eyes widen in alarm. Yet, when she and Sixteen remained unscathed, she breathed a sigh of relief and took the opportunity of the mysterious distraction to escape with Sixteen through a nearby door unnoticed. She figured that the sheriff and deputy finally fired on the bounty hunter, though it would have been unorthodox, given that the man was technically on their side of the law.

But Krillin always had a soft spot for her. Maybe he was her savior. She could only hope. There was no telling how long she and Sixteen could hide away, or where she'd find help for his injuries. As she hid her massive brother in a corner behind a familiar mahogany desk, Eighteen rolled her eyes at the irony of her location. Whether he engaged in the gunfire or not, the sheriff was not going to be happy when he found them here. Sixteen groaned and shut his eyes tightly in pain. He was tense, sweating and gritting his teeth, and Eighteen knew he couldn't get far in his condition. She had to remove the bullet.

"Hang on, Sixteen. Just stay quiet."

Eighteen moved from her brother to search the sheriff's desk for the necessary tools. She would await her fate, whether that turned out to be at the discovery of someone who would more likely help or kill them. All she could do for the time being was help Sixteen, be ready to fight, and ignore the gut-wrenching feeling that twisted her stomach every time her thoughts shifted to Seventeen laid dead on the street of West City.


	7. Head 'Em Up, Move 'Em Out!

When Bulma Brief entered through that heavy, wooden door, she expected to find safety from the chaos and gunfire outside. What she did not expect was to be immediately seized by strong, massive arms. Her eyes shot wide open as a calloused hand clapped over her mouth. The only two bank patrons inside and Chi-Chi were down on the ground with their hands on their heads, while Mr. King was unloading the safe for…rugged-looking, masked bandits. Bulma tried to scream, but the hand over her mouth squeezed so tightly that her voice only came as a muffled murmur.

"Ha! Told ya!" The deep voice of the man holding her exclaimed. "I knew someone would be comin' through that door once I heard gunfire."

Another bandit, stationed at the right side of the bank, beside the desk full of papers with Oolong and the whore, Maron at his feet, nodded to him. "Good work. Watch out for any more stragglers while we finish here."

With a controlled, cool demeanor, he turned a glare on Mr. King. The poor bank owner had stopped shoveling the money and gold from the safe to stare in awe as the larger bandit pressed the barrel of his gun against Bulma's head. Bulma closed her eyes tight as the cold, hard metal barrel burrowed painfully into her temple. Her heart raced harder than it ever had before. She was deeply regretting not staying out on the street and taking her chances with the shootout.

"Get back to work, Mr. King." The lead bandit ordered, then chuckled as the bank owner's eyes widened in fear.

Goku, standing beside the bank owner with his hand ready at the gun on his hip, narrowed his eyes at Vegeta. "Go on." He encouraged the bank owner in an insistent, yet much more amiable tone. "All we want is the money. Do what he says and no one gets hurt."

As Mr. King nodded fervently and resumed his task with a worried grimace, Bulma blinked at the kinder bandit. His voice sounded so familiar. As her eyes drifted downwards, she noticed another gun in the leather holster of the hip of the gunman holding her. Her mind went to work immediately. If she could only grab that gun, then maybe…

"Hey! Stay down!" The fourth bandit yelled, startling Bulma and the other hostages as he pointed his gun and kicked the podium beside him where a quivering head of black hair ducked quickly to the ground.

Goku glared a warning at Raditz. The returning smirk his brother sent him sent a surge of fury through him. He wanted to trade posts with Raditz. He didn't like his brother being so close to his wife. If Goku knew Chi-Chi, she was barely holding back from lashing out at the men who dared to rob her father's bank. It looked like she wasn't going to contain herself much longer. His eyes shot towards Bulma. Nappa might have had a firm hold on her, and she was scared, but she was another one likely to resist. This was a disaster waiting to happen. He needed to hurry this heist along before someone got hurt.

Vegeta kept a tight grip on his gun as he eyed the hostages knelt on wooden planks at his feet, shivering like the cowards they were. As his eyes raised and drifted around the room, he could see Raditz had everything under control in his area, with the feisty dark-haired woman finally subdued at his feet. Kakarot seemed reluctant as expected, but perfectly in control and doing his job. The large bank owner almost had all the money packaged up for their taking. Vegeta tapped a finger on his bicep impatiently. More gunfire from outside suddenly drew gasps and screams from the bank hostages, while everyone looked towards the door and tensed.

An aggressive growl from across the room quickly drew Vegeta's attention back in that direction. Goku followed his gaze, gasping in horror at what he saw. Chi-Chi was lunging for Raditz's gun, taking the opportunity of the distracting gunfire outside to find an opening. But Raditz wasn't having any of it.

As Raditz drew his arm up to come down on top of the woman with his elbow, Goku dashed from the bank vault to push him away. Knowing everyone was watching, he peered around the room and worked to keep his cool as his wife fell at his feet, stunned and unbalanced, but unharmed.

Goku turned a glare on Raditz. "You get the safe! I'll handle her."

Raditz scoffed, before narrowing his eyes at his brother. He was sure Kakarot would 'handle her', alright. Raditz threw his head back dismissively and chuckled as he strutted towards the safe to lazily point his gun at the bank owner who was slowing down at his task again, due to the distraction.

Chi-Chi lifted her head from the ground, a fire burning in her eyes as she looked at the new bandit come to 'handle her'. These Saiyans had a lot of nerve, coming into her father's bank and robbing the place, all while expecting her to stay down and do nothing. She wouldn't just stand by and let this happen, but her one attempt to do something about it so far resulted in her being nearly struck down by a ruthless bandit.

She flinched at the touch of the Saiyan next to her as she stood to her feet, glaring at him for trying to help her up. "Your friend has some nerve, striking a lady."

Even though the mask of a red bandanna concealed his face from the bridge of the nose down, the deeply dissatisfied look on the man's face was obvious. "He's not my friend."

Chi-Chi moved fast, intending to take the Saiyan by surprise as she reached for the gun at his holster, but he was faster. Their skirmish drew the attention of the others in the bank for only a moment before he held her wrist and spun her around to hold her back tightly against his chest, restraining her arms to her sides. "Don't do anything stupid."

His whispering breath fluttered the bandanna against her neck, causing a chill to run down Chi-Chi's spine. She gasped and struggled, though she knew it was futile. His hold around her body was so tight, she knew there was no chance of escaping unless she threw him off-guard.

"All we want is the money, and we'll leave." He sighed. "Just like all you want is your son back."

When Chi-Chi gasped at his words, Goku exhaled heavily, preparing himself for what was to come. He had never felt so guilty about anything in all his life as what he was doing now. He wasn't sure if she realized who he was yet, but he suspected she did. He knew for certain that she understood what this heist was about though. Chi-Chi was too smart _not_ to put the pieces together. She would know what he was capable of now, and he didn't know how she would react to it once this was all over. Goku relaxed his grip as the guilt rained down on him, just before Chi-Chi pushed away.

"No!" Chi-Chi shook her head fervently, her shout drawing everyone's attention again. She didn't care that the other Saiyans were looking at her hostilely. She was too busy absorbing the fact that the man in front of her, her husband, really was one of them. And she could do nothing. Her hands were figuratively tied.

Just like Goku said, resistance would stop him from getting Gohan back. And she needed her little boy. She needed him more than her father and all the investors in the town needed the money in his bank. But the urge to fight was too strong to ignore. And the shock of her husband's betrayal was too much to bear. All her strong, warring emotions were too much to handle. Chi-Chi met Goku's apologetic gaze, finally recognizing his eyes behind that mask and underneath the brim of that hat, before her ears began to ring.

"Chi." Goku reached out to her.

She looked so pale all of a sudden, so conflicted, and he knew that she definitely knew. Just as his hand brushed against her arm, her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed, falling into his arms as he reached out to catch her.

As Goku knelt down, laying Chi-Chi gently on the ground, Vegeta chuckled from over his shoulder. "You handled her, alright."

Goku glared over his shoulder at Vegeta, before leaving Chi-Chi passed out on the ground to rise to his feet. "I think we're about done here."

"Ye-" Vegeta began, before noting in his peripheral vision a movement that could cost them everything. "Hey!"

Goku's eyes went wide as Vegeta lunged at Nappa and Bulma. Nappa stepped back in wide-eyed alarm as Vegeta grabbed Bulma, wrestling Nappa's gun from her weak fingers just as she was sliding it out of Nappa's holster.

Bulma grunted and groaned, crying out her frustration as that damn Saiyan took the gun from her, just when she thought she was about to save herself.

"What is wrong with you, you idiot?!" Vegeta screamed at Nappa as he yanked Bulma by the wrist, making her wince in pain.

Nappa gaped at the weak little woman, before looking down at his empty gun holster. Then he raised his gaze to snarl at the little bitch for daring to touch his gun. The only thing that stopped him from smacking her was Vegeta's cold, disapproving glower.

"Pay attention when you're holding a hostage." Vegeta scolded his big idiot of a comrade, before pointedly drawing the woman in his grasp tightly into his restraining hold. "Let me show you how it's done."

Bulma gasped, flinching at the smaller Saiyan's touch. His fingers were digging into her arms and his eyes were wandering her body. She felt his attention was not lewd, unlike she earlier suspected from the other Saiyan, but threatening, which was far worse. It was like he was sniffing out her weaknesses.

"See anything you like?" She asked, wishing immediately that she could retract that remark.

Vegeta chuckled at the woman's boldness. "You think you're clever, don't you? If you truly were, you'd keep your mouth shut."

"I've got the money!"

Raditz's victorious yell from the other end of the bank made Vegeta forget about the snarky woman that had nearly taken down Nappa. He smiled at his success. "Good. Let's go."

Nappa stepped forward, cackling to himself as he waved his gun over the group of hostages. They'd become too relaxed all of sudden, knowing that the big, bad Saiyans were leaving. He needed to strike some fear in them. What he'd really like to do would be to shoot something, preferably some _one_. But Kakarot and Vegeta told him not to if no one gave him trouble. Kakarot and Vegeta already took care of the two women who started trouble. The rest of them were sniveling and complying too well. This group of hostages was just no fun.

Eyeing Nappa suspiciously, Goku made his way to join Raditz in retrieving the money. It would take more than one pair of arms to carry that stash. But he didn't like the way Nappa was looking at the hostages. They needed to get out of there, and fast. He just hoped whatever was happening outside the bank didn't cause them more problems.

Vegeta followed Kakarot's gaze towards the door of the bank. Knowing what he was thinking, as he had concerns about the outdoor scenario as well, Vegeta backed himself up, dragging the blue-haired woman with him, until his back hit the wall. He slowly removed one hand from the woman's arm to push aside the curtain at the window and take a peek outside.

"I'm ready. Can I load the horses?"

Vegeta peered sidelong at his haughty comrade, Raditz, who stood holding two heavy bags of gold and cash, waiting for Vegeta's go-ahead. The scene outside had certainly changed since they went into the bank. Two bodies were on the ground, that tall, confident man was standing in the open with his gun trained on the sheriff and deputy, and those two were aiming at _him_ from behind their horses. The woman and the big man were gone, though. Vegeta couldn't find them anywhere on the street.

When Kakarot stepped forward to join Raditz with his own load of cash, Vegeta gave the brothers a curt nod. "Be quick about it. It looks like the sheriff and deputy will be too busy to come after us." He signaled Nappa with a nod. "Grab the stash and let's go!"

Nappa chuckled. "Alright!"

His disappointment over missing his chance to use his gun was gone as soon as the prospect of taking off with the money and getting away free was mentioned. Nappa gladly swept the remaining canvas bags of loot into his arms, laughing at the miserable, kneeling bank owner, whose goods were being swiped right from under his nose. With the massive size of his arms, Nappa was able to gather the remaining two heavy bags in one arm, while wielding his gun with his other hand. Maybe Nappa couldn't shoot somebody on this heist, but he would at least fire his gun. He raised it into the air.

At the immense explosion of sound, Goku turned wide-eyed to see Nappa's sinister, yet gleeful smile. Taking a quick look at the hostages, he confirmed that no one was hurt. Goku sighed in relief when he didn't see any blood.

"What are you doing?" Vegeta hissed at Nappa incredulously.

Nappa shrugged and holstered his gun. "Had to get my kicks off somehow."

Goku rolled his eyes before looking warily at Vegeta with Bulma still in his grip. "What are you going to do with her?"

At the other Saiyan's question, Bulma met his gaze with wide eyes. She _did_ know that voice. But it couldn't be! The more she thought about it, his dark eyes became more familiar, especially when they widened in recognition of the knowledge behind her gaze.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the woman as she stared at Kakarot. Then his eyes shot in the direction of the outdoor shootout. It was possible that things could go wrong and botch their escape. In that case, she could be useful.

Vegeta grunted as he pulled the woman with him and pushed the door open. "Let's go."

Goku grit his teeth as he followed Vegeta and Bulma out the door. He didn't know what Vegeta was planning to do with Bulma, but now he was worried for his friend. The only thing that was good about Vegeta bringing her with them was that she couldn't share with everyone else in town what she just discovered about him. But she had to be scared out of her mind. Or angry. He hoped she was scared. Because when Bulma was angry, she tended to say and do things she shouldn't.

The sunlight that hit their eyes caused Bulma and the Saiyans to squint as they exited the bank with Nappa in back, who was watching expectantly for any heroes to chase after them from the bank.

At the promising sight of Krillin and Yamcha in the distance, Bulma stomped on her captor's foot, trying to make her escape. If she could only free herself of the bandit's grasp and make it to Yamcha, she wouldn't have to worry about being killed. When the Saiyan growled furiously at her and tugged her against him tighter, more forcefully and hurtfully than was necessary, Bulma let out a yelp. A bullet, shot from Krillin's gun in the direction of the mysterious bounty hunter, ricocheted past them, which could have hit Bulma if she left the Saiyans' presence. She let out a shaky sigh as she felt some relief at having failed her escape attempt.

Bulma then screamed as the Saiyans ran for their horses at full speed, dragging her with them, while the three men on the street temporarily turned from their gunfight to gawk at the sight of a band of Saiyans running from the bank with loads of money and a female hostage.

"Bulma!" Yamcha called once his shock wore off.

He had no idea what was going on, how he and Krillin had missed it, but it seemed the Saiyans just robbed their bank. And they were taking Bulma with them! "Bulma!"

"Yamchaaaa!" Bulma cried as the rude Saiyan violently threw her on his horse, apparently expecting her to ride.

Yamcha forgot all about the bounty hunter, moving from his protective station behind the horse to dart towards Bulma, until a loud gunshot landed at his foot, blasting sand into his eyes.

"Don't take another step, Deputy!" The largest Saiyan warned while aiming his gun for Yamcha's head. "Unless you want to die."

"Yamcha!" Krillin called.

Moving hesitantly forward, Krillin quickly stopped when he noticed the bounty hunter eyeing him closely, and the gun-wielding Saiyan looking even keener to fire at him. Krillin growled in frustration. Now he had a band of criminals robbing the town's sole bank, a bounty hunter after his…after the Geros, two bodies on the street, and a respected lady of the town being kidnapped. And he felt helpless to do anything about it.

Vegeta chuckled as he observed the scene, the strange man on the street eyeing his group closely and curiously, but keeping his distance, while the deputy and sheriff seemed to be pigeonholed. This would be the perfect escape. Maybe they didn't even need the woman.

While Kakarot and Raditz loaded the sacks of cash on their horses' backs, Vegeta met the woman's blue-eyed, panicked gaze. "Are you of any use to us?"

Bulma blinked. "Of any use to you?" She smiled. "No, you should let me go."

"You might want to rethink that answer." Vegeta warned with a smirk concealed behind his royal blue bandanna. "If you're of no use, you're _disposable_."

As the Saiyan raised his gun from his holster, Bulma's eyes went wide. "No! I mean, I don't want…" at the Saiyan's impatient glower, Bulma spoke her fear in a rush, "I don't want to be raped!"

Raditz raised a brow at the woman's exclamation, before eyeing Vegeta curiously. He never thought Vegeta would be the type to do something like that. But then again, he could see the appeal. He remembered that woman from the general store. It had been a long time since a woman like _that_ joined their company. But the use of force had never been necessary in Vegeta's case. Nappa's maybe, but not Vegeta's. With an amused frown, Raditz decided to climb onto his horse, as his brother beside him had already done.

Goku clenched the reins tightly as he glared at Vegeta. He didn't know what was going on, but Vegeta had to hurry it up. Goku didn't like the way that suspicious stranger in the street was looking at them, who especially seemed to be narrowing in on Goku now, which made Goku all the more uncomfortable.

Vegeta sneered at his men. They had no right to look at him like that. He never suggested he was going to rape the woman. That was something _she_ concocted in her own head.

Vegeta rolled his eyes as he returned his attention to her. "Is that all you're good for, then?"

Bulma gawked at the Saiyan, before outrage overcame her good sense. "How dare you! I am not some hussy! You want a whore, you can find them down the street! _I_ am a lady."

"A lady who's useless, apparently." Vegeta scoffed as he mounted his horse and ignored the irritated grunts and groans from the woman behind him as he shoved her around to position himself to ride.

"Useless?" Bulma huffed, forcing herself to sit upright behind the pushy Saiyan. "I'll have you know I am extremely intelligent…and rich!"

Vegeta quirked a brow and glanced over his shoulder. "Rich?"

"Yes! My father-"

Bulma abruptly stopped speaking and covered her mouth with her gloved hands as she realized she'd said too much. Vegeta chuckled and kicked his boot against the side of his horse.

"Saiyans!" Krillin called irately when he saw the Saiyans moving to leave. "Unhand the woman, and no harm will come to you!"

Nappa chuckled and ran to jump on his horse. "No harm will come to us either way, Little man!"

"Saiyans?" Cell gasped as the pieces finally clicked together at hearing that name.

The whole time he was staring over there, Cell knew he should have known that band of criminals. When he saw the one glaring back at him in the red bandanna, he thought he recognized _that_ face. Now he knew exactly who he was.

Cell laughed to himself with glee. This was perfect. After he finished with the last two Geros, he'd have another bounty to collect – one only the best in the west could obtain. Kakarot's bounty had proved impossible to deliver, the man remaining unseen for years. But now Kakarot was right in front of him. And it was not only him, but the entire band of Saiyans, a group most bounty hunters had all but given up on retrieving. This new job was going to be his greatest pursuit of perfection yet.

Vegeta's gray horse, made anxious by the clash of boot in its side, began circling around the deputy at Vegeta's direction. Goku's and Raditz's horses trotted that way, while Nappa grabbed the reins to his black horse. Bulma held on tight to the Saiyan riding with her, not that she wanted to, but she couldn't stand the thought of falling off and being trampled to death by a horse.

"Tell this woman's rich father," Vegeta said to the stunned deputy, "that we'll return her when he offers an adequate reward."

"Ah! What?!" Yamcha knit his brows in concern as his eyes met Bulma's blue eyes, which were welling with tears.

"You heard 'im!" The large, brash Saiyan said.

Yamcha whimpered in frustration. He couldn't just let them take her. There was no telling what those criminals would do with her. But somehow, Bulma seemed more confident than she should have been. Maybe she knew something they didn't. Maybe something about the Saiyans tipped her off with a strategy to escape on her own. Bulma was smart like that. But still, if Yamcha didn't want to let her be taken, what was _he_ supposed to do? He felt helpless to stop them.

Giving his horse a yell, Nappa made his massive stallion jolt towards the south end of town. He could hear the trampling of hooves following behind him, but he knew it was just the others he was hearing. He supposed now, after they made their getaway, they'd have to contact that native and give Kakarot's kid back to say goodbye to the disloyal bastard. Oh, well. It was fun having the gang all back together for one last job.

"Goku," the woman's scolding voice drew the attention of all the Saiyans, "what are you doing?"

Goku scowled, refusing to meet Bulma's gaze as he continued riding. "I don't want to talk about it, Bulma." He narrowed his eyes at Raditz riding beside him. "Someone just better hold up his end of the bargain."

"I can't believe you!" Bulma exclaimed. "You're dealing with Saiyans now?"

Bulma couldn't believe her ears. Here was her friend, someone she had long trusted and had so much faith in, and he was striking deals with the Saiyans now? How could she not have seen it before?

"He's not _dealing with_ Saiyans, woman." Raditz grunted. "He's one of us. Always has been."

"That's enough of your questions." Vegeta cut off the woman, who he could feel already tensing in preparation for more talk. "Keep quiet. It'll be a long ride before we make camp."

Bulma glared at Goku riding Kinto'un in tight-lipped silence beside her, then turned her glare on the lead Saiyan's back. "And if I don't?"

Goku's gaze softened as his eyes shifted in concern to his stubborn friend. "Bulma."

Vegeta snorted. "If you can't be quiet, we'll have to kill you now and collect your father's ransom either way."

"That's right." Raditz added as the woman gasped. "Can't have anyone hear your mouth and find us while we're hiding out in the wilderness."

"No." Vegeta chuckled. "That would be very bad, for us and for you."

Bulma frowned and knit her brows. "Why for me?"

"Because, Little Lady," Nappa pulled his brown bandanna down to reveal his mustache and sinister smirk, "some very bad people are after us. They'll kill anyone who's with us."

Goku tensed on the reins, stopping Kinto'un as he absorbed the new information. The others continued riding, though Raditz eventually stopped to look back at him in confusion when he didn't catch up.

Looking at the distant gaze on his brother's face, Raditz untied his black bandanna and tossed it to the ground. "What's up, Kakarot?"

Kakarot pulled his bandanna to his neck. "Who's after you?"

Raditz opened his mouth to answer, but Vegeta beat him to it. "What's it to you? You're leaving in the morning anyways."

Goku peered suspiciously at Raditz, before driving his horse forward to meet Vegeta face to face. "Is it that man? The one shooting people in West City?"

"No." Vegeta frowned. "I don't know who that was."

Goku lowered his head. "Hm."

"What is it?"

"I have a feeling. Just a bad feeling about that guy."

"Like Nappa said," Vegeta raised his chin dismissively, "we have our own problems. You can deal with _that_ freak when you return with your boy to your little town."

Goku turned his gaze from Vegeta to Bulma, who was listening intently to their conversation. Her eyes widened when his met hers. "Not without Bulma."

"What?" Vegeta laughed.

"I'm not leaving her here with you, Vegeta."

"You're not taking her."

"Why not!?" Goku ground his teeth in frustration. "You already have your money. You don't need her."

Nappa grunted. "You have no idea what we need, Kakarot. It's been a while since I've had a woman."

Vegeta frowned at Nappa, before meeting Goku's reproving, knowing look. "You won't touch her, Nappa."

Bulma looked at the big, unattractive Saiyan continuing to eyeball her, in spite of his comrade's order. When he licked his lips, she shuddered and clung tightly to the other Saiyan, who hummed in amusement until she abruptly released her hold.

"Don't worry, Bulma." Goku turned his comforting gaze from his friend to glare at his most unseemly acquaintance. "I won't leave you here."

Bulma could have easily given Goku a snappy retort. She wanted to. But that bit the Saiyan Vegeta said about Goku returning with his boy had her at a loss. She tried to recall the last time she'd seen little Gohan. She couldn't. She'd seen Chi-Chi alone or with her father, looking so downcast lately. It wasn't like her. Goku didn't look or act like he wanted to be here. Instead of snapping at the only Saiyan she found familiar, she gave him a simple nod, meeting his gaze for only a moment. She certainly didn't feel safe, but she felt _safer_ as long as Goku was around.

* * *

The Saiyans' distracting escape gave Cell the perfect opportunity to strike the deputy down with a sneak attack. He approached the unsuspecting, dark-haired man on foot, pistol-whipping him before his dazed partner could think to react. While the deputy fell unconscious to the ground, the sheriff sprung to action. Cell laughed at his pathetic efforts. When just that seemed to put a stop to the sheriff's attempt, Cell laughed louder.

Krillin raised his chin bravely and stepped out from behind his horse. "Listen, _I'm_ the sheriff of this town."

"So I see."

"And if you're truly here to collect bounties, you shouldn't be striking at lawmen, unless you're looking to get arrested." Krillin glared and gave a pointed nod to Yamcha's unconscious form laid in the muck of the street beside the two dead bodies Cell had already provided the town.

"No, I suppose I got carried away."

Krillin huffed. "What's your name?"

"Cell."

"Well, Cell, I'm Sheriff Krillin, and that's Deputy Puar you just knocked out. If you need help collecting legal bounties, I suppose my office is always open. But if you harm another innocent person in this town-"

"How long have you had Saiyans in your town?"

"S-Saiyans?" Krillin furrowed his brow. "Not long at all. Now, if you harm-"

"Are you sure?" Cell regarded his surroundings and holstered his gun. "I'm certain one of them must have spent a lot of time here up until now."

Krillin shook his head and grunted. "I-I don't know what you're talking about! Look! I don't want you in my town."

"Well, then, today might be your lucky day." Cell smiled. "My bounties are already on the run."

"Oh." Krillin blinked, relaxed. "Well, then…good luck."

Krillin gave Cell a dismissive tip of his hat, hoping this truly was the last he'd be seeing of the bounty hunter. He knelt down to rouse Yamcha, hoping the deputy wasn't hurt beyond being stunned. Of course, seeing his girl being taken like that could be more painful than any blow. Krillin frowned after his shaking roused Yamcha enough for the other man to groan quietly. His friend would be alright, but the town, he wasn't so sure of.

As Cell loaded his gun and other belongings on the tan horse previously used by the lawmen as a barricade, movement beyond the horizon caught his eye. He looked beyond the horse's saddle-covered back to spy mirage-like silhouettes in the distance, resembling four men on horseback. Cell narrowed his eyes. As the mirage came closer, making itself real, Cell snorted in recognition.

Krillin grunted as he threw Yamcha's arm over his shoulder and used all his strength to pull Yamcha upright. He didn't even look up when people slowly started emerging from their safe haven to come out onto the street.

" _They_ came fast." Cell said. "You didn't have to call them in."

Krillin furrowed his brows, tilting his head in confusion as he looked at the tall bounty hunter, who was mounting his horse and glaring into the distance. "Call who in? I didn't call anyone."

"Sure, you didn't." Cell scoffed with a teasing tip of his hat. "Just remember, _I'm_ not the bad guy here. Those guys." He raised his chin towards the group of riding figures in the distance. "They claim to be the good guys. But they're not."

Cell took off with a single shout at his conveniently-swiped horse, and then disappeared in the same direction in which Eighteen and Sixteen had earlier departed the scene. He would find both of them, and soon. Then, it was on to the Saiyans.

As the sound of horse hooves trotted past, Yamcha awoke and stirred beside Krillin, wincing before finally opening his eyes.

Krillin narrowed his eyes at the approaching horseback riders. "Now what?"

When Yamcha opened his eyes to see where Krillin was looking, he gasped in recognition. He had no idea what had passed since he was knocked out, but it was obvious that a lot had changed, and in spite of his massive headache, he recognized what was coming their way. Those guys were legendary.

"Ginyus?" Krillin added dubiously.

Yamcha nodded, then pushed off Krillin to rise weakly to his feet. His head was killing him. He placed a hand against it, and sure enough, cool moisture coated his hand as a stinging pain made him suck in sharply through his teeth. He was going to need Dr. Brief to take a look at that later. He had some catching up to do first, and a lot of work ahead of him, he decided, as he eyed the lifeless bodies of the doctor and Seventeen Gero a few feet away.

"I'm sorry, Yamcha." Krillin said, anticipating Yamcha's question before he even thought to ask. "They took Bulma. She's gone."

Yamcha grimaced and lowered his head. He'd failed her. He'd disappointed Bulma before, he was sure, with his philandering, but some of the women at Champ's were too enticing to refuse. He wanted to commit himself to her, but now….now he just hoped she'd be okay.

"What are we going to do, Krillin?"

Krillin grunted. "Do we have a choice?" He nodded towards the men now coming into clearer view as they arrived at the main street of West City. " _They'll_ decide what to do about the Saiyans, and about the robbery. That Cell was a real bastard, but he was right about one thing. I don't ever want to have to work with Ginyus if I don't have to. I just can't imagine who called them."

"That would be us."

Krillin and Yamcha both turned around to see the two men standing behind them, smirking at the sight of the arriving party. Dodoria and Zarbon smiled at one another before tipping their hats towards the leader of the Ginyus, whose smug smile was enough to make Krillin wish he wasn't the sheriff right now.

"Why?" Yamcha asked.

"We have our reasons." Zarbon said. "Now, if you don't mind, Mr. Ginyu?"

The leader of the Ginyus gave a nod to the refined gentleman summoning him. The others followed at his flank. Dodoria and Zarbon led the Ginyus towards a quiet area on the street, away from others.

Krillin and Yamcha exchanged a glance as they watched the group walking and riding off together. They didn't like the looks of this at all. But they had to put their city back together. People were already coming out to see what happened, looking worried and alarmed by the two dead bodies in the street. That would be their first order of business.

Yamcha lifted his hat and scratched his forehead. "I'll clear out the bodies; see if Mr. Roshi's willing to do a ceremony for them."

Krillin nodded, supposing he should head back to his office, see if he had anything on these Ginyus, maybe Zarbon and Dodoria, anything to make sense of what was happening. Also, he expected a lot of concerned citizens coming to him, demanding the retrieval of their stolen money. He couldn't imagine how he would accommodate them. A match for the Saiyans, he knew he was not. He was just a small town sheriff, who had never asked for any of this. All the same, a lot of responsibility had suddenly fallen into his lap.

Once away from the lawmen, in a shadowed area between two buildings, Dodoria turned on the Ginyus with crossed arms. "You're too late."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that." Zarbon answered the crooked lawman on a white horse with matching long, white hair. "The Saiyans just left town with a hell of a payday. They won't be back."

"Oh, really?" Mr. Ginyu stroked his strong chin with an intrigued smile.

"Yes, really." Dodoria grunted. " _You_ can explain your failure to Lord Frieza."

"No need." Another Ginyu, the tallest and gangliest of the bunch smirked.

"We'll get them. Right, boys?" Mr. Ginyu said to his confident group, before turning to Dodoria. "Don't you bother Lord Frieza."

Dodoria and Zarbon grunted in surprise, balking at the audacious claim as the Ginyus turned around to ride back the direction from whence they came.

Dodoria furrowed his brows and turned to Zarbon. "What do you make of that?"

Zarbon shrugged. " _I'm_ certainly not reporting to Lord Frieza that there's a problem. Let _them_ take the heat. It's their funerals."

"Right." Dodoria snapped out of his astounded daze and nodded. "We've got a saloon to finish building, and a few more in this town to put out of business."

Zarbon chuckled. "That's right."

As the pair turned to head to their construction site, they passed the weary sheriff, who was heading back to his office down the sun washed dirt street, addressing frantic women and scared children along the way with reassurances that everything would be fine. Little did he know, Lord Frieza was on his way to West City.


	8. Prepared For The Worst

When Krillin stepped into his office and closed the door, he felt the relief of finding sanctuary from the chaotic events outside, but that lasted for only a second. He was surprised by the gasp from another person, which came from the direction of his desk. Freezing in place, Krillin shifted his eyes towards the source of the gasp, his mind already working on getting his hand to his gun before anyone could draw on him first.

When he spied the top of a blonde head of hair moving from behind his desk, Krillin furrowed his brows and frowned. Slowly, he made his approach, his fingers ghosting over his gun, though his muscles were working in a much more relaxed manner than they should have been in this type of moment. That all changed when he approached the desk, step by step, and a larger, more intimidating silhouette than he expected to see was revealed to be hunched against his desk.

"Geez!" Krillin drew his gun, his body trembling as he realized who was in his office.

The Geros. It was bad enough that Krillin was still shaken up over the shootout and bank robbery that had just occurred in his town, not to mention the unexpected arrival of Ginyus. But this surprise only made matters worse. What Krillin really wanted to know now was what Eighteen and that massive cousin of hers were doing in his office.

"Put your gun down, Sheriff."

Krillin gaped, taking in the deflated tone coming from the mouth of the woman behind his desk. He'd never expected her to sound that way. She was always so strong, confident, and intimidating.

Guilt washed over him in a tidal wave of realization. Of course she wouldn't be feeling that way now. Her brother and father were just killed, and Krillin had done nothing to stop it. He'd failed her.

"E-Eighteen?" Krillin inched forward and holstered his gun, raising a brow as he peered towards Sixteen's face still hidden from the angle of his view. "Six…teen?"

Eighteen saw Krillin's face pale as he looked at Sixteen's blood-soaked, ripped shirt sleeve, and Eighteen's terrible stitching job covering his exposed shoulder. She knew medical aid wasn't her strong suit. She was a fighter. She was great with guns. And she had a great appreciation for the finer things in life. Stitching wasn't one of them. But the least the sheriff could do was stop gaping and offer Sixteen some help.

As Krillin gasped, Eighteen stood to her feet, turning to face Krillin with a glare. "We need to get out of here."

Krillin stuttered, looking at Sixteen, who was moaning in pain and nearly unconscious. "I-I don't think Sixteen is up for tha-"

"I don't care!" Eighteen snapped. "Cell is going to kill us! You saw what he did to my father…" she heaved a deep breath as a look of pain crossed her face, "…what he did to my brother."

"Eighteen, I-"

Krillin cut himself off, turning away. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to help her. But they were criminals. As sheriff, he should have been allowing Cell to collect his bounties. In a warped, twisted way, what Cell was doing was legal. Lawmen couldn't interfere with other lawmen doing their jobs. But when he considered having to allow Cell to shoot Eighteen, Krillin knew he wouldn't be able to stand down. When he looked up to meet her gaze again, those crystal blue eyes were staring back, her piercing gaze so soft and vulnerable-looking for a change.

"Please," Sixteen rasped, "Sheriff."

Eighteen pressed her lips together as she looked down at her brother. Sixteen was in bad shape. As much as she wanted to escape the town and get out from under Cell's radar, she knew Krillin was right about what he said earlier. Sixteen was in no shape to travel. Her shoulders sagged when Sixteen's eyes opened to meet hers. "Sixteen."

Sixteen wheezed, gritting his teeth as he braced a hand against the pain coming from his injured shoulder. "Eighteen, you have to get out of here."

"If you're going to run" Krillin said before Eighteen could reply, "you should go now. Cell was leaving town, trying to track you two. I think the coast should be clear right now."

Sixteen's brows furrowed before he looked up towards Krillin. "You should check and make sure."

Krillin nodded. "Sure."

He turned towards the door, taking a breath and releasing it before he reached to turn the squeaky knob. He didn't know why he felt so jittery. He was sure that Cell had left, never to return to West City. Yet, an ominous feeling overcame him as the door swung open.

Eighteen stepped forward, feeling as if something was pulling her towards the sheriff when that door opened. She clenched her fist tightly and pressed it against her chest, feeling like it might help to calm her rapidly beating heart. But it didn't. When Krillin peeked his head out the door and tensed, that didn't make it any easier.

Sixteen narrowed his eyes as he stared intently at the door. Something about the sheriff's demeanor was making him uncomfortable. Something wasn't right. Sixteen grunted as he forced himself to his feet, knowing in his gut that he had to be ready to take action, no matter how he was feeling.

"Krillin?" Eighteen whispered.

"Oh." Krillin's voice wavered as he staggered back, then shut the door. He turned and pressed his back against the door, meeting Eighteen's gaze, but tripping over his own tongue when he tried to warn her.

He still couldn't believe what he saw out there. Not only was Cell still in town, but he was headed right for Krillin's office. Maybe it was that generous offer Krillin made towards the bounty hunter to share his resources. He should have known not to be so polite to a murderer. But it didn't make any sense. Cell was determined to find Sixteen and Eighteen. Unless - Krillin grimaced as he looked at Eighteen.

Unless Cell realized Sixteen and Eighteen were still in the town! He was still tracking them, and unfortunately for Eighteen, he was on the right track.

"Krillin?" Eighteen raised a brow. "What did you see?"

Krillin clenched his eyes shut. "Shit!"

Sixteen gasped, his eyes bulging as he looked at Krillin and rushed forward with a surge of adrenaline. He knew it now. Cell wasn't gone. He was still after them. Sixteen wasn't going to let him get Eighteen, though, no matter what the cost to him. He raced for the door, placing a hand on the knob as the sheriff stepped back.

"Sixteen, what are you doing?!" Krillin cried. "He's out there!"

Eighteen gasped. "Cell?"

"Go."

"Sixteen!" Eighteen bared her teeth, reaching forward and grabbing her brother's thick forearm.

"I said go, Eighteen." Sixteen said decisively, yet quietly, as he creaked the door open and peered through the crack.

Krillin balked incredulously. "You expect her to travel alone? No woman can survive that wilderness alone with all those savages and bandits out there!" When Eighteen growled and glowered at him, Krillin added, "not even Eighteen!"

"You're right." Sixteen peered over his shoulder, cracking a smile at the sheriff. "You should go with her."

"What?!"

"Sixteen!" Eighteen tugged futilely on the arm of the large man who refused to budge.

"Please, Krillin." Sixteen pressed, ignoring his sister's stubborn refusal, "she needs you. I can hold him off."

"Sixteen, are you crazy?!"

"I can't leave the town when West City's in crisis!" Krillin exclaimed. "I'm the sheriff!"

Before replying, Sixteen reached for the large rifle leaning against the sheriff's wall with his good arm, gripping the barrel tightly. "He's here."

"Shit." Eighteen hissed, searching the office frantically for another way out.

There was the front door, the jail cell, and another small, locked door behind it. When her eyes panned on it, Krillin followed her gaze, acting quickly to seek the keys. Of course, Sixteen wouldn't be able to fit through that small door, even if he did have a chance to escape Cell. But there was no chance for another option. As Krillin placed the key in the lock, the front door flew open, knocking Sixteen back.

"Sixteen!" Eighteen grunted in frustration as she watched Krillin open the small door, while her brother staggered to his feet, glaring at Cell and raising his rifle.

"Ah," Cell smiled as he walked in, dragging something by his side and eyeing Sixteen with his rifle before taking in the view of Eighteen and Krillin crouched by a small door. "I was returning for supplies, Sheriff, but this is even better."

"Back away." Sixteen ordered, squinting one eye shut and training his rifle directly on the confident bounty hunter.

Cell strode towards the others, keeping a smile on his face as if there weren't a rifle trained on him at close proximity. "Eighteen, why don't you come with me? That would make this so much easier on you."

Sixteen seethed through his teeth. "I said get away!"

The sound of Sixteen's finger cocking the trigger made Cell pause, but only for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed as he peered sidelong at Sixteen. Krillin's eyes widened as he recognized Cell's grip on the deadly weapon dragging by his side. Within the few seconds it took for the series of events to unfold, he knew exactly what was about to happen.

As Eighteen opened her mouth, intending to give Cell some adamant refusal, no doubt, Krillin shoved her through the small door he'd just unlocked. While she was crying out in shock and falling forward, two deafening shots were already blasting through Krillin's office. He gasped at the scene as he concurrently watched Cell seemingly dodging Sixteen's misaimed bullet, while Cell's shotgun blast hit its target, splattering blood all over Krillin's walls and floors while the massive body of Sixteen fell to the ground with its head blown off.

"Ahh!" Krillin couldn't help screaming at the gory sight. "Sh-shit!"

Then Cell turned towards Krillin, blowing the smoke from the tip of his expertly drawn shotgun with a smile on his face. Krillin clenched his teeth, not wasting a second to dive through that door after Eighteen, who was already trying to push her way back in.

"Krillin! What happened?"

"Eighteen, go!"

"What about Sixteen?"

Krillin clenched his eyes shut, but pushed Eighteen further. "There's no time for that now! Get on my horse! He's tied up around the corner!"

"Krillin!" Eighteen glared. "I'm not leavin' Six-"

A loud blast, accompanied by a hole blowing through the wall right in front of her eyes, interrupted Eighteen. Her eyes bulged as she stared at the splintering hole from Cell's gunshot, but Krillin shook it off and shoved her forward. "My horse! Let's go!"

"Krillin!" Eighteen ran for the horse, moving faster than Krillin would have thought humanly possible.

Krillin was just relieved to see Eighteen distancing herself from Cell. There was no telling what Cell would do next. It was a godsend that the huge gunman was too tall to fit through their small escape door. But Cell seemed capable of anything.

By the time Krillin was jumping on his horse behind Eighteen, Krillin's mind was racing with a million realizations. He was leaving West City - on the run. He was leaving his town in crisis. He was going to be out alone in the woods with Eighteen Gero. He was…he was about to get himself killed by a bounty hunter.

Krillin felt bile rising to his throat as Eighteen gave a yell and sent his horse running with both of them astride. He didn't know if it was the horseback ride or the reality setting in that was making him feel queasy. Maybe it was his anxiety of what was to come. He was going to have to tell Eighteen what happened to Sixteen, if she didn't figure it out already. Either way, he had to admit that he failed her three times now. Not this time, though. Eighteen needed him, and he wasn't going to fail to protect her. The town would have to survive without him for a while.

Eighteen narrowed her gaze, leaning forward as she made that horse run as fast as she possibly could. She was relieved not to hear another horse on their trail. Maybe, if they were lucky, Cell would lose track of them after they disappeared behind those trees up ahead. With that in mind, she barely flinched when Krillin wrapped his arms tightly around her waist in a sudden embrace.

But when she heard the sheriff grumbling in her ear, Eighteen glanced over her shoulder. She couldn't help cracking a smile at the sight of the sheriff, clinging to her for dear life with a grimace of misery on his face. Maybe the sheriff wasn't cut out for life on the road. She hoped he could make it, because Sixteen – selfless, gentle Sixteen - was right about one thing – like it or not, they were going to need each other now.

* * *

Past the trees, quite a distance from them, the disruptive noise of horses' hooves racing through the forest made Piccolo's head snap up attentively. It wasn't close or even a threat to them, but it was alarming.

The only people besides his own people who should have been traveling through the forest would not be traveling at such speeds. Pale faces mostly stayed safe in their little town. If the Saiyans were returning to pay him and pick up the kid, they would not be racing towards him – unless they planned to attack and never intended to pay him in the first place.

With a furious scowl, Piccolo stood to his feet. The little boy trying to catch fish behind him splashed as the fish thrashed frantically in the water. Piccolo would have groaned in irritation at the child's slow learning with the simple task, which everyone from his village learned to do from the time they were small children, but he was too focused on the possible threat.

The splashing quieted. "Mr. Piccolo?"

"Do you know how to defend yourself, Gohan?"

"…defend myself?"

"Have you ever killed a man?"

As Piccolo turned to face the boy, to see a pair of petrified, shocked eyes looking up at him, Piccolo sneered to himself. He realized that was a pointless question.

"Why…why would I want to do _that_?"

Piccolo sighed. "Because sometimes, it's you or them. Because sometimes…you have to."

Gohan blinked a few times, then released a hesitant chuckle. "No, you don't. My dad says-"

"Your dad's a liar."

Gohan pursed his lips tightly, a sulky glare defining his features as he looked at Piccolo. The big savage could be so mean sometimes. Didn't he know Gohan was just a little kid? Still, he expected Gohan to _kill_ someone? Gohan didn't know what Piccolo wanted from him, or why he seemed to hate his dad so much.

"Don't look at me like that, kid."

Gohan clenched his fists and yelled, "My daddy's not a liar!"

Piccolo's brows rose. "Oh." Then he smirked. "Good."

Gohan startled. "Good?"

"You do have some fire in you. Use that anger, direct it towards the Saiyans if they attack us tonight."

"Saiyans?" Gohan knit his brows together in confusion. "I thought you said my _dad_ was a Saiyan."

"He is. Still, be ready tonight." He looked Gohan up and down, unimpressed. "I suppose you need some training with weapons."

"Umm…"

"Here." Piccolo thrust the handle of his knife into Gohan's open, shaky palm, which Gohan clumsily grasped. Piccolo wrinkled his nose at the pathetic grip. "Don't be afraid of it. It might save your life someday."

With a disapproving shake of his head, Piccolo reached into the stream at his feet, effortlessly plucking a fish from the water. Gohan's trembling fingers gripped the knife tighter as he marveled at the sliver of light traveling along the edge of its sharp blade. He felt his heart pounding as he nervously anticipated what he was supposed to do with that weapon. But at the sound of Piccolo's demanding grunt, he looked up to see the fish thrashing frantically in Piccolo's hand as Piccolo extended it towards him with a demanding glare.

"Gut it. You'll need practice handling the knife first, then I'll show you a few of the basics." After Gohan took the fish, Piccolo crossed his arms, glaring down at Gohan. "And once you've learned how to use that thing, _don't_ think about using it on me."

Gohan gulped. "W-what happens if someone attacks us, Mr. Piccolo?"

A wry smile crossed Piccolo's face. "We fight them. Don't worry, kid. If we survive the night, we'll be heading back to the safety of your town tomorrow."

Gohan's eyes lit with excitement. "You're…you're going to bring me home to Mom?"

Piccolo snorted. "Hardly. I still expect to be paid first. But something is going on. The Saiyans should have been back with your dad by now, and from what I've seen today, there's way too much traffic going to and from the town. I want to find out what's happening in West City."

Piccolo narrowed his eyes in the direction of the town. Something was definitely going on. He'd never sensed so much activity from there before. He knew his people never went there. Aside from himself and Kami, the other Namekian natives strictly remained within their own settlements. Tomorrow, he would find out for sure what was happening in West City, and what had become of the Saiyans. With everything that seemed to be happening, he doubted they really would try to go after him tonight, but one could never be too careful. He would survive the night with the kid, and then he would learn everything about West City, and hopefully find the Saiyans to collect his money.

* * *

By the time he made it to the door of the sheriff's office, Yamcha was huffing with beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Fortunately, the Geros' bodies were relatively light, but that didn't make lugging them down the street any easier. Now that he made it here, at least he could discuss a few things with Krillin. He could get things started with putting their town back in order after West City's disastrous morning. Plus, he could have Dr. Brief take a look at his head. It was still throbbing where that bounty hunter's pistol struck him.

"You better get Dr. Brief to take a look at you, Deputy."

Yamcha huffed in amusement as the old man's voice echoed his thoughts. Then he turned to smile at him. "I'll do that, Mr. Roshi. But first, would you mind getting the door for me?"

As Yamcha grunted and lugged the two Gero corpses by the feet towards the doorway, Roshi nodded and rushed past him. He was ready to do anything he could to help. He'd never seen West City in such a state of disarray. Everyone was going to have to help out, if the town wanted to see peace again. With a deep sigh, Roshi pushed the door open, stepped inside, and gasped at what he found.

A thud sounded, shaking the floorboards at his feet as Yamcha gasped from behind. "What the-"

Roshi furrowed his brows and cupped a hand around his mouth and nose. There was blood everywhere. And another dead man on the floor. Once Roshi looked beyond, he realized there was a massive hole blown through the distant wall, above a small back door of the office. Upon closer inspection, he realized there were bloody footprints leading from the blood puddle, gradually fading as they headed for the door.

"That's Sixteen Gero!" Yamcha exclaimed, peering over the corpse which was incredibly recognizable due to its size, in spite of the mangled state of its unidentifiable head.

Roshi only glanced at the corpse, before searching the room frantically. "Where's Sheriff Krillin?"

"Krillin!"

Seeing no sign of him as Yamcha joined him in searching, Roshi growled in frustration. "What happened here? Who could've killed Sixteen?"

Yamcha clenched his jaw, and his fists, knowing exactly who was capable of this - the only man who wanted the Geros. "Cell."

Roshi spun to face Yamcha. "Cell?"

"The bounty hunter who gave me this." Yamcha rubbed a hand through the drying tangle of blood-soaked hair on his head.

Roshi grunted, narrowing his eyes and clasping both hands behind his back as he began putting the pieces together. Before he could draw any conclusions, the front door blew open.

"What the hell is going on?!"

Yamcha snapped his head towards the door, already reaching for his gun at hearing such a brazen exclamation after the morning he'd just had. When he saw who it was, he loosened his grip and sighed. "Tien."

"Deputy, I don't know what you're so relaxed about." Tien snapped irritably as he stomped into the room with Chiaotzu trailing on his heels.

"We just saw the sheriff riding out of town with the Gero girl!"

Roshi furrowed his brows. "Chiaotzu, you must be mistaken."

The serious scowls on Tien and Chiaotzu's faces made it clear to Yamcha that they were certain about what they saw. That just didn't make any sense, though. Krillin might have oddly had a thing for that criminal, but he would never leave the town when it needed him so badly.

"Our town's in chaos," Tien crossed his arms, "and our sheriff skips town."

"Who knows if he'll ever come back." Chiaotzu spat on the ground. "Coward."

"Krillin isn't abandoning us! He'll be back!" Roshi snapped, glaring at the irritated pair for daring to storm into that office and make such accusations against their absent, but loyal sheriff.

"In the meantime, though," Yamcha rubbed his throbbing head, lowering his gaze to the floor, "I guess I'll have to take his place as Sheriff. Just 'til he gets back."

"Which he _will_." Roshi added.

Yamcha crossed his arms. "This bounty hunter really shook things up here. The Saiyans, too."

Roshi released a heavy sigh and slumped. "All my money. Gone."

"Hey, I had money in that bank, too." Tien said. "I think we all did. But we have bigger problems right now. Chiaotzu and I saw Ginyus."

"Right." Chiaotzu nodded. "They left, though, just before the sheriff and Gero girl and that bounty hunter all hightailed it."

"Ginyus?" Roshi's eyes widened.

He looked to Tien and Chiaotzu, then Yamcha, seeing confirming nods from all three of them. This was a bigger problem than he could have imagined. The Ginyus' presence was never a good sign. Whatever authority Yamcha might try to assume in Krillin's absence, the Ginyus were sure to undermine it when they returned.

"Yes, but I don't even think they're as bad as those scumbags, Zarbon and Dodoria that are building that saloon right across from ours."

Roshi quirked a brow. "Zarbon and Dodoria? Those guys?"

Those two refined gentlemen seemed surly and definitely not friendly, but Roshi never would have guessed they would be a big risk to the town.

"Yes," Chioatzu placed his hands on his hips and glared up at Roshi, " _those_ guys."

"Tien and Chiaotzu are right, Mr. Roshi. Those two are the ones who called in the Ginyus."

Tien balked at Yamcha, while Chiaotzu shrieked, " _what_?"

"What'd they do that for?"

Yamcha scowled at Tien, wishing he had an answer to his question. But the truth was, any answer he could conjure up wasn't a good one.

"I don't know, fellas." Roshi pulled his hat off, holding it against his chest as he scratched his bald head, "but I don't like this one bit."

Tien turned to Yamcha with a look of determination. "You're going to need help. If you're stepping in as sheriff until the real one returns, let me stand in as your deputy."

Chiaotzu gasped. "Tien!"

Yamcha narrowed his eyes at the saloon owner. "You'd _do_ that?"

After giving a firm nod to Yamcha, Tien turned to Chiaotzu. "Sorry, Chiaotzu. I know this puts you on the spot. But do you think you can manage the saloon on your own for a while?"

As Chiaotzu gaped, but nodded, Roshi stepped forward. "I'll lend him a hand. If you're going to serve West City as its deputy, Mr. Shinhan, keeping your saloon in business is the least I can do to thank you."

Yamcha crossed his arms and grinned. "Yeah, you _should_ have an interest in keeping that place running. If Tien goes out of business, where are you and your little pal, Oolong gonna go out to drink?"

Roshi's cheeks lit with a crimson flush as the others chuckled at Tien's remark. But he quickly recovered, turning with a grim face to look upon the piled bodies they'd been trying to ignore. "Alright. As soon as I get these bodies buried, Chiaotzu, I'll join you at the saloon."

His eyes panned over the bodies, his heart growing heavy with the rising death toll of West City. The worst thing weighing on his mind was the realization that there would be more to come. This definitely wasn't the end of it. He was going to need to dig a hole large enough to accommodate whoever else would be joining the three Geros in death.

With a deep breath, he looked up to meet the somber gazes of the other three men still standing in the sheriff's office. "Spread the word, fellas. Everyone in town needs to be on their guard."

Yamcha lowered his gaze to the floor, furrowing his brows as Roshi's words made him realize the gravity of their situation. As much as he feared the Saiyans, he almost hoped they'd return to West City with Bulma, so he knew she'd be alright. He worried about Krillin as well.

Eighteen Gero was hardly a threat in comparison to the other big players who had come into town, but still, Krillin was alone out there with her, and she was still a criminal. His friend and sheriff was out there among savages, a gang of bandits, a group of Ginyus, and an insane bounty hunter. Chances weren't looking good for poor Krillin, no matter what his reason for leaving was. Biting his lip and turning towards the Sheriff's desk, Yamcha sat down, retrieving the badge kept in the top drawer. It was time to put it on, and to deputize Tien. The fight for peace in their town was just about to begin.

As Roshi ducked out the sheriff's door without another word, searching for a shovel for the burials, he shook his head. The Ginyus were certain to return. There was a chance of the Saiyans returning, and Cell, and who knew who else. Roshi had a feeling they hadn't seen the worst of them yet.

As if to confirm his fears, a carriage strolled forward, nearly running Roshi down when he was crossing the dirt street. He furrowed his brows as he stumbled forward and the carriage continued on. When the expensive-looking, spacious carriage stopped, Roshi cocked his head, noting that it stopped right in front of the newly constructed saloon. Zarbon and Dodoria's place was nearing completion already with its finishing touches. When the two of them emerged from the saloon, greeting the hidden passenger within that carriage with familiarity, Roshi scowled.

A petite man stepped out, dressed in frilly white and purple attire, slowly taking in his surroundings. Roshi's chest tightened with anticipation when the new arrival's eyes fell on him. The smile coming from that man made his blood run cold.

As the intimidating, compact man handed his bags to Zarbon and Dodoria, Roshi gulped and turned away, wishing the sheriff was back in town. If not him, West City could definitely use Goku's presence. That man had proven time and time again since he was just some nobody strolling into town that he could take care of himself, and he would protect his own. Roshi could tell West City was going to need good men like him now, more than anything. The sooner more good men returned to West City, the better.

For now, it was up to Yamcha and Tien to maintain peace and safety in town.


	9. Prowlers In The Night

The wilderness outside West City was not as quiet as the Saiyans expected it to be that night. Sure, there was always the possibility of some vigilante heading out after them to retrieve the stolen cash, but the Saiyans didn't expect anyone in that town to be insane enough to do it - especially not when they'd be putting another of their own innocent citizens at risk.

Vegeta averted his gaze from the dancing flames of the fire in the center of their camp to look at the blue-haired woman sleeping beside it. At least, she appeared to be sleeping. Vegeta was fairly certain she wasn't. A clever woman would wait until the Saiyans were off-guard and attempt to make her escape. Of course, if she realized just how dangerous this life was in comparison to her cushy city life, she would realize there were greater dangers waiting out there for her than Saiyans.

"Vegeta."

Biting his lip, Vegeta only slightly inclined his chin towards Kakarot, who sat on the opposite side of the fire, the shadows on his face dancing from the flames as he propped one knee up to get comfortable being sandwiched tightly between his snoring brother and the sleeping woman.

"Are you hearing what I'm hearing?" Goku asked as he narrowed his eyes towards a cluster of trees shadowed by the darkness of the night sky.

Goku could swear he was hearing noises over there, and not just the typical desert animal sounds of the night. Hearing several whinnying horses and possibly even some voices out there was alarming, to say the least. Especially because the voices sounded so foreign to him. If they weren't people from West City, perhaps they were these people from whom Vegeta, Nappa and Raditz were running.

"Hn." Vegeta's response, though blunt and inarticulate, was conveyed in a tone that Goku understood as agreement, especially as Vegeta followed Goku's gaze and subconsciously clutched the gun resting on the log by his side.

"Vegeta, who's after you?"

Vegeta glared, nearly baring his teeth at the other man. He didn't like being questioned by his men, but then again, Kakarot hadn't been one of them for quite a while. And if those people out there were who he thought they were, he would need Kakarot in order for any of them to survive what was coming.

With a disdainful sniff, Vegeta directed his gaze towards the invisible rustling pine trees in the blackened distance. "Frieza."

"F-Frieza?" Goku's eyes bulged before he glared at Vegeta across the dying flames of their fire. "You said you'd never steal from him again!"

"We didn't!" Vegeta snapped. "But he still thinks we owe him for that past job. _All_ of us."

Goku grit his teeth, looking warily towards the sounds which seemed to be coming closer. Methodically, he checked for the presence of his gun and eyed his horse for readiness. If what Vegeta was saying was true, by bringing him into this, the others had really screwed Goku over. Again. "Shhhhit."

"Yeah. Fucking Frieza."

Goku peered at the face of his slack-jawed, slumbering brother. "Did Raditz know about this?"

"Of course he did. What?" Vegeta chuckled. "You expect him to _protect_ you from this shit? You're in it the same as we are."

"Fuck you, Vegeta."

"Fuck you, too, Kakarot."

Goku scowled first at his sleeping brother, then panned his gaze over Nappa's restful visage, before settling his gaze sorrowfully on Bulma. "You'd really bring _her_ into this when you knew Frieza was coming for you? What kind of a man are you?"

"The kind of man who recognizes a good meal ticket when he sees one."

Vegeta stood to his feet, quietly gathering his things from the dirt and log clusters at his feet as he peered into the dark distance. After hearing the crisp snap of a dry twig, Goku followed Vegeta's lead more hurriedly. Someone was definitely out there, and coming closer. As Goku stepped over his sleeping brother, he bent down and shook Raditz's shoulder, attempting to quickly rouse Raditz from sleep while continuing to prepare for fight or flight.

Vegeta figured if Nappa didn't wake to defend himself, he didn't deserve to live. Vegeta would prefer less baggage if it came to running. So he didn't bother with waking Nappa, instead passing over him and the woman as he tended to his horse and his things. He knew the woman didn't require rousing. She was definitely awake, judging by the way her brow twitched and her breathing hitched during revealing moments of his conversation with Kakarot.

As bustling noises continued around her and Raditz finally grunted angrily at his brother's disturbance, Bulma opened her eyes with a gasp. From everything she was just hearing from Goku and Vegeta as she feigned sleep, she knew they were in some serious trouble, even though she had no idea who this 'Frieza' was. And worst of all, the damn ambush that was coming to them was ruining her plans for making an escape while the Saiyans slept.

"Come on, Raditz!" Goku hissed. "Move it!"

Raditz sneered, opening his eyes to the immediate sight of the woman crawling out of her rustling sleeping bag with a panicked look on her beautiful face. When he rose to his feet, he was surprised to see Vegeta and Kakarot rushing to secure their belongings on horseback and pack up camp, while Nappa groaned and wrestled in his sleep on the ground.

Before he could ask what was going on, a familiar but unwelcome voice called out in the distance. "Captain! I've got their tracks right 'ere!"

"Shut up, you idiot!"

Snapping their heads towards the recognizable voices of the captain of the Ginyus and one of his men, the Saiyans froze. But only for a moment. Then they scrambled to their horses, finally waking Nappa when Bulma stumbled over his chest to climb on the tan horse stationed behind Vegeta's.

Nappa awoke with a start and glared at Bulma climbing on his horse. "Hey! What's the big idea, Woman? That's _my_ horse!"

As Bulma grimaced at the large, intimidating Saiyan and clenched her fingers tightly around the reins to the large horse as the other Saiyans had already done with theirs, a surprise gunshot echoed its disturbance through the valley. As the explosive sound died off in a wave of echoes, it was drowned out by the miserable groaning of the bullet's victim.

Raditz cried out in agony, clutching his thigh as blood poured through his leather pants from the wound."Sh-shit!"

"Raditz!" Goku gasped at the sight of his brother's wound before moving Kinto'un so he could face their hidden enemies lined up behind the dark cluster of trees facing their open patch of camp.

"Come out and fight us head-on, you cowards!" Vegeta snarled, before shooting a single bullet aimlessly into the trees.

Laughter filled the desert wasteland, making Bulma shiver and back away on her horse as shadowy figures emerged from behind those trees.

"Raditz, you alright?" Goku asked as he propped his gun and narrowed his eyes at the five shadowy figures approaching them.

"Yeah!" Raditz hissed through his teeth as he wrapped a leather strap from his pack tightly around his wounded leg. "Fuck!"

The captain was the first to emerge from the shadows, moving his horse forward and aiming his gun at Raditz. "You won't be for long, Saiyan. Lord Frieza has a debt to collect from you. One that's long overdue."

"Son of a bitch!" Nappa kicked out of his sleeping bag, baring himself in nothing but long johns as he stumbled to his feet. "How'd you find us so fast?!"

"You Saiyans." Captain Ginyu shook his head and tsked. "Always too proud and stupid to bother covering your tracks."

Nappa growled and bared his teeth before lunging for his wrinkled leather pants on the ground, where his pistol was partially exposed hanging from the pocket. He didn't have time to reach it, though, as the suddenness of his movements caused the smallest man in the Ginyu's gang to preemptively fire. As a gunshot sounded and Nappa's fingers fell loosely on his gun, his body followed suit falling right back on his bloody sleeping bag. His eyes rolled back in his head as the blood pumping through his chest slowed, getting weaker and weaker as it poured from the agonizingly painful wound which tore through his heart.

The rest happened in a blur. Bulma screamed at the gory sight and backed away, while Vegeta shot back multiple times at the Ginyus, hitting one target who screamed in pain and fell from his horse. After emptying his ammo, Vegeta raced his horse away from the scene while Goku did the same in the opposite direction.

"Come on, Bulma!" Goku called as he raced his horse away from the scene while more gunshots were fired, expecting Bulma's horse to follow as he knew his friend was a woman without a lick of experience in these types of situations, yet perfectly capable of horseback riding and knowing when it was time to run for her life.

When Goku reached a stretch of trees with only the sound of one horse following him, he sighed in relief and turned around. The anxious, whinnying horse he immediately recognized behind his was brown, not tan. The rider's eyes looking back at his were not blue and wide with fear, but black and glazed over in agony. The horseback rider was not a slender woman, but a large, muscular man slouched in his saddle.

Goku glared incredulously at the sight of his brother. "Where's Bulma?!"

Raditz groaned, the pain and loss of blood from his gunshot wound coursing enough adrenaline through his body to get him to that point of safety, but not enough for him to make any sense out of his brother's stupid questions.

Recognizing his brother's sickly pallor and incoherent state, Goku growled in frustration and searched frantically through the patches of trees and desert bush, through the distant wide open spaces of darkness for any sign of Bulma, but she was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Bulma had tried to heed Goku's call. But she hadn't moved fast enough for the Ginyus. Her horse was shot and wounded in the gunfire and collapsed to its knees, its body falling over and snuffing out the campfire which was all that remained of the Saiyans' overnight camp.

With a hard grunt, Bulma rolled off the horse and collided with the ground, barely having a chance to right herself from being splayed beside Nappa's bloody corpse before a hand bore down on her, yanking her by the hair.

A deep voice chuckled. "Look what I've got, boys!"

"She ain't a Saiyan!"

"Of course she's not!" The third voice sounded authoritative, causing Bulma to gasp in alarm before she turned to get a good look at them all.

As Bulma was dragged by her hair towards the other two Ginyus, she noticed that the one who had a hold of her was taller than the others, almost freakishly tall. As he bumped past the large, redheaded one who had so helpfully pointed out the fact that Bulma was not a Saiyan, Bulma also noticed there was still another running his horse in the direction Goku and Raditz had headed. She was shoved to her knees in front of the final Ginyu, who stood there, tall and arrogant, but seemed to be the only one showing significant signs of intelligence.

"The Saiyans never travel with women." The arrogant leader frowned down at Bulma. "So what are you doing out here, Sweetheart?"

Bulma scowled and attempted to forcefully rise to her feet, but she was stopped short by her tangled dress caught in the twigs and points of her boots. Still, she held her head high, looking the domineering Ginyu Captain square in the eye. The other Ginyu returned, his white horse galloping to a stop as he returned empty-handed from his search. When Bulma opened her mouth to answer the captain, the bastard cut her off.

"She must be important to them." He exchanged glances with the other two men, before looking down at Bulma again with a pensive frown. "I wonder what they'll do if we kill her."

As the woman gasped and her eyes widened in alarm, Burter laughed. Raising his gun towards the back of her blue head of hair, he looked to meet the Captain's approving gaze. But to his disappointment, the captain looked like he was already rethinking his position. "Captain?"

Jeice scoffed and turned his horse away from where the Saiyans had disappeared. He was pissed at them now. They killed Guldo! At least Nappa was finished as well. One out of four wasn't too bad. But after that ambush, there was no way the surviving Saiyans would be caught off-guard again like that. They'd have to wait until morning. But all wasn't lost. He was sure the captain had a plan. Maybe they could use this woman as some sort of bait.

With a snicker, Jeice grabbed a long, mangled stick from the ground and thrust it into Nappa's stubble-and-blood-covered cheek. "What do _you_ think, Nappa? Mind if we kill this little lady you were travelin' with?"

Recoome wrinkled his nose at the lifeless body, before drawing his large, serrated knife from his holster and approaching the woman with a sadistic laugh. "I say we have a little fun with her. Maybe her screams will draw the Saiyans back here."

With a scream of shock, Bulma fell back, moving as quickly away from _that_ Ginyu as possible. "No! You don't understand. I'm not _with_ them. I'm just an innocent woman! They took me as their hostage!"

Captain Ginyu placed his hand firmly on Recoome's chest to halt him. "Hostage?"

"She's lyin', Captain!" Jeice spat at the ground and glared at the whimpering woman.

Burter bared his teeth. "Saiyans don't take hostages! Never!"

"Even so," Captain Ginyu rubbed his chin pensively, "perhaps she can be useful. What's your name, Doll?"

Accepting the fact that the men didn't intend to hurt her, at least not for now, Bulma warily glanced at each of them before training her eyes on Ginyu's again with a sneer. "It's not 'doll', that's for sure."

"Ooh, Lady." Burter tsked and shook his head. "You better watch how you speak to our captain."

"That's courteous advice for the lady, Burter." The Captain nodded before smiling at Bulma. "Name?"

"Bulma." Bulma pulled hard on her skirts to free her cotton dress from the twigs with which she'd become entangled, effectively ripping the snagged blue fabric. "Bulma Brief."

"Well, Miss Brief," the captain removed his black hat and used it to gesture towards the rear of his horse, "why don't you climb aboard, unless you want to try riding that lame horse again?"

Bulma's eyes darted to Nappa's horse, which was making horrible sounds of misery as it was slowly and painfully dying, the poor thing, and then to Nappa's disgusting corpse. She knew the last thing she wanted was to end up like either of them. But she couldn't believe Goku left her behind with these thugs. He was supposed to be keeping her safe! Now it seemed her only chance of survival was going along with the Ginyus, unless she could talk some sense into them.

Bulma raised a brow at Captain Ginyu's expectant smile. "You're Ginyus, right?" As the men nodded, Bulma frowned. "Well if you're lawmen, I don't know why you don't just kindly ask a lady to help you out and chivalrously offer to take her home."

"Not too often you meet a _lady_ at a scene like this." Burter snickered, exchanging glances with the other men who laughed along with him.

Bulma gasped in offense. "I'll have you know I am one of _the_ most affluent ladies in West City. Now, I demand you take me home. My mama and papa, along with my _deputy_ beau, are probably worried sick about me."

"Oh," Burter smiled sardonically, "yes, ma'am! We'll just allow a band of murdering thieves to go free for the sake of escorting a lady home."

Recoome laughed loudly. "Good one, Burter!"

"Shut up, Recoome." The Captain rolled his eyes before glaring down at Bulma. "Get on the horse, Miss Brief. As Burter just so eloquently put it, we have murderers to kill, and I'd hate to leave a nice lady like you out here in the wilderness all by herself at night."

"Yeah," Jeice said, "what with them wolves, and snakes, and bandits roaming loose in the dark, you just might get shot by accident."

When Bulma met the captain's gaze, a predatory smile slowly spread across his lips. She knew that offer of his was much more of a threat than a promise, but she really had no choice. They were certainly going to expect her to help with finding the Saiyans. With a huff of frustration, she climbed onto the back of the black horse, hesitant to touch the man leading it as she awkwardly shuffled into place on the rear of the saddle.

"Now, I'm gonna have to tie you up for your own safety, Miss." The captain said with a tone of mirth as he kicked his horse and started leading the men forward. "It's bad enough we just lost a good officer. We can't be risking you running off during the night and getting yourself hurt."

"No," Bulma muttered as her eyes flitted across the bleary darkness and men surrounding her, "we wouldn't want that."

As the Ginyus rode forward, grunting in amusement at the woman's remark and beginning small talk amongst themselves, a figure watched from the darkness, hunched behind a thin pine and cluster of desert cactus with his horse stationed not too far off. Vegeta realized he should have felt relieved that the Ginyus were off his back for the night. But he wasn't.

He knew they'd be right back on his trail in the morrow. They weren't going to quit until he and the other Saiyans were dead, though now that Vegeta had the money he needed, he couldn't care less what happened to those idiot brothers. He'd have to follow the Ginyus overnight to make sure _he'd_ get the jump on _them_ , and not the other way around. There was certainly no _other_ reason he couldn't just forget about the Ginyus and head the other direction to leave West City behind. As Vegeta slowly stood and stealthily approached his horse so as not to alert the band of Ginyus in the distance, he scowled to himself. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

As Goku sought Bulma through the darkness, all he saw were trees and the beady, reflective eyes of small creatures in the direction of the forested areas, and vast darkness in the open, rocky terrain of the rest of the wilderness. As more chilling sounds carried from whence they'd come, and Raditz slid in his saddle, nearly falling off his horse, Goku hesitated and growled in frustration.

Baring his teeth towards the distant scream of his defenseless friend, Goku turned a glare on Raditz. "I should let you die here. She needs me."

Goku swished his reins, moving Kinto'un past Raditz and his horse with the intention of returning to the scene, when a hand unexpectedly clasped his wrist. "K-Ka…karot."

Goku glared at the hand clutching his wrist tightly. "You brought this on yourself, Raditz. It's not like you don't deserve it."

As Goku shook himself free of the grasp and moved forward again, checking to see that his gun was fully loaded, the softness of Raditz's voice surprised him. "I know. I deserve all of it. I'm sorry for bringing you and your friend into this, Kakarot. Please…please don't go."

Goku stilled. "Raditz…"

"Don't let me die alone out here. I need your help." Raditz grit his teeth and groaned in pain. "Kakarot!"

Goku snapped his head towards the distant trees, where he could hear laughter coming from their camp. "Where were you when _I_ needed help? Bulma-"

"Are you really going to let your brother die alone out here? You know if you leave me I _will_ die, Kakarot." Raditz hissed and clutched his bleeding leg. "If the wilderness or this wound doesn't kill me, the Ginyus are bound to catch up with me at some point and finish the job."

At the blurry sight of Kakarot's shoulders slumping while a defeated sigh sounded from his brother, Raditz smiled in relief and nuzzled his burning forehead into his horse's soft mane. Kakarot would take care of him. And once he survived this, he would get as far away from Frieza as possible, with or without Kakarot and Vegeta.

When Kakarot finally turned his horse to face Raditz, Raditz looked up to meet his hateful gaze with an appreciative smile. He knew if the girl died out there because of this, Kakarot would never forgive him. But he was fairly certain Kakarot was never going to forgive him for their past in the first place. All that mattered to Raditz right now was living, even if it was at the expense of someone else's life.

* * *

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Chi-Chi cupped her hand softly around her condensation-soaked bottle of half-empty sarsaparilla. She didn't have to hide her worry now. Everyone in town was pretty miserable after the bank robbery and the shootout. They were all penniless now, after all, and there was nothing like a few burials to put life in perspective.

Of course, what everyone passing through the busy saloon around her didn't realize were the deeper causes for her concern. No one in town knew that she'd spent the past few days waiting for signs of her husband...or her son. There was talk, though. Whispers and murmurs she heard every time she walked around, from people wondering why she no longer had her son chained to her side as usual, and where that husband of hers could be at a time like this. With another deep sigh, Chi-Chi rubbed her fingers over the cold moisture of her glass and twisted the bottle slowly on the table.

"Mrs. Son, isn't it nice to see you!"

Chi-Chi immediately recognized the cheery voice without having to look. Only that woman or someone who enjoyed the misery of others could sound cheery now, but this was a synthetic cheerfulness. There was no doubt in Chi-Chi's mind that the woman was high on that medication again.

"Mrs. Brief," Chi-Chi looked up from her glass and smiled politely at the poised woman standing beside her table, "how are you and Dr. Brief holding up?"

With a solemn frown, Chi-Chi averted her eyes from the flash of pain crossing the older woman's face. She couldn't look at that pain right now, not when she could relate so closely to what Mrs. Brief must be feeling with her daughter being taken from her.

"We'll be fine." Mrs. Brief took a deep breath. "I'm sure Bulma will find her way back to us soon. She's a smart girl."

Chi-Chi nodded, and, giving Mrs. Brief a reassuring smile, looked up to meet the older woman's eyes. "Yes. I'm sure you're right."

Mrs. Brief hummed in agreement as she slid into the seat beside Chi-Chi, joining her at the table. Chi-Chi hid her grimace by staring into the pool of dark liquid in her sarsaparilla bottle. She wasn't feeling very sociable. She didn't want to put on the act on any longer. She was ready to return home. As a matter of fact, it was getting late. Much later than Chi-Chi thought, she realized when she glanced up at the large metal clock hanging over Tien's - or now was it Chiaotzu's? - bar.

"Mrs. Brief, it's supper time. I should get home." Chi-Chi furrowed her brows at the older woman who remained firmly and contently planted in her seat. "What are _you_ doing at the saloon this late?"

Mrs. Brief let out a breathy sigh as her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure. The laudanum was taking effect. It always felt good, freeing her mind from the troubles of life. But as a strange sense of being watched overcame her, Mrs. Brief realized that Chi-Chi Son had asked her a question. Oh, right. She was at the saloon late because of her husband.

"Mrs. Brief?"

With a lift of her chin, Mrs. Brief indicated the crowd of men gathered at the opposite end of the bar. "I'm waiting on Dr. Brief." A lazy giggle slipped from her lips. "He's working late tonight."

As Chi-Chi followed Mrs. Brief's half-lidded gaze, she carefully scrutinized the faces in the crowd gathered around the bar, where Roshi stood behind, pouring the men drinks. She already knew there was some sort of meeting taking place over there, but until this moment, she'd been too deep in her own head to pay attention to who was there or what they were talking about, aside from Mr. Satan's loud voice carrying through the saloon.

Along with Sheriff Puar, Deputy Shinhan, Chiaotzu and Mr. Satan, Dr. Brief, Mr. Roshi, and even her own father were there. Chi-Chi had no idea what had happened to Sheriff Krillin. She hoped the reason for his disappearance was that he had realized Gohan and Goku were in trouble and he'd gone after them, but she highly doubted it.

Chi-Chi was surprised to see her father attending such a meeting. These meetings were normal occurrences she knew of that happened amongst the political figures and businessmen in town, but her father usually avoided participation. Though he was the sole owner of the town's only bank and held a rightful spot in that group, her father was never one for politics and controversy. This time, however, it seemed he'd taken an interest in being included. Seeing that he needed to resolve the bank robbery, she could understand it. Still, she was curious what they had to discuss, and why the town's newest saloon owners weren't being included.

Having the sneaking sensation that someone was watching him, Ox King looked away from his conversation, towards the door of the establishment, where he was surprised to see Chi-Chi sitting with Mrs. Brief at a table, staring at him. He furrowed his brows with worry. He knew his daughter missed her family. He hoped they'd return from that fishing trip soon. If Goku was aware of what their town was going through, Ox was sure he'd bring Gohan home right away.

"Mr. King," the new deputy said, "did you hear that?"

As Mr. King blinked, thinking back on the earlier context of their conversation about the Ginyu presence in West City and this suspicious new saloon owner in town, Tien crossed his arms and sighed. What Mr. King hadn't heard while he was distracted by the sight of his daughter, was that they thought this new saloon owner was somehow connected to the Ginyus.

"Why don't you tell him again, Mr. Roshi?" Yamcha asked, tilting his hat over his eyes and propping his elbows on the bar behind him.

"Mr. King," Mr. Roshi scowled as his eyes darted to meet the gazes of all the men staring at him expectantly, "we suspect that this Mr. Cold who arrived yesterday didn't just come to West City to build a saloon."

As Ox King gasped curiously, Chi-Chi Son leaned forward, listening intently to eavesdrop on the distant conversation.

"If he didn't come here for his saloon," Mr. Satan interjected, "what is he here for?"

Tien exchanged knowing glances with Roshi, Chiaotzu and Yamcha. "It was his men that called in the Ginyus, and now the Ginyus have gone after the Saiyans."

Mr. Satan's eyes widened. "So you think he's after the Saiyans?"

Roshi nodded. "He is an affluent business owner, and the Saiyans are bandits. It's possible they've stolen from him before."

Chiaotzu shrugged. "Makes sense."

Yamcha scowled. "Yeah, but why do I get the feeling that _he's_ the bad guy?"

Mr. Satan chuckled and gave a dismissive wave, before assuming an arrogant stance. "No need to worry! What do we care what happens to the Saiyans? I say let the man be as long as he doesn't intend to harm anyone in our city."

Tien shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this guy."

"Tien's right." Roshi grunted. "I'm fairly certain those Ginyus intend to _kill_ the Saiyans, and who knows what they'll do for this Mr. Cold when they return to West City after the job's done."

Mr. Satan tried to remain confident, but his confidence wavered along with his voice when he finally spoke. "Y-you mean...he might intend us h-harm? My little...my little Videl could be in danger from these men?"

Roshi sighed and lazily swiped a cotton cloth across the spills on the bar. "I don't know, Mr. Satan. I can't say for certain, but-"

"But I think he's right." Tien said. "I don't think he came here for a saloon. I'll bet this guy's using the saloon as a front for illegal dealings."

"A guy like that with money and the authority of the Ginyus behind him," Chiaotzu said, "is a real threat."

Yamcha scowled. "Those Saiyans are as good as dead."

" _We_ will be, too," Roshi added, "if we don't get in front of this and do somethin'."

Across the saloon, Chi-Chi gasped at what she was hearing. She still had no idea how Gohan was faring alone with Piccolo Daimao, but she knew he couldn't be far from the Saiyans. For all she knew, he could already be with them now that Goku had done as they asked and cooperated with that terrible job for them. And Goku, possibly Gohan as well, were in grave danger from these Ginyus.

"What can we do?" Yamcha said.

As the newly appointed sheriff clenched his fist and pounded it loudly against the table where Mr. Satan, Mr. Roshi, Chiaotzu, Tien, Dr. Brief and Mr. King sat, Chi-Chi stood from her seat, suddenly determined. "Gohan!"

"Well now, Dear," Mrs. Brief giggled in surprised and grasped Chi-Chi by the hand, "there's no need to be alarmed for your boy. I'm sure those gentlemen have everything under control. Here, take this and relax."

As Chi-Chi eyed the small vial of a liquid substance Mrs. Brief deposited in her hand, her father eyed her from across the saloon. Ox had seen that look of determination on Chi-Chi's face before. But seeing it now, while having this conversation with the town leaders, he feared for his daughter more than ever before. Something wasn't right.

"Gohan is out there!" Chi-Chi shook her head stubbornly and pressed the vial back into Mrs. Brief's palm. "I can't leave him out there any longer! It's too dangerous!"

"Chi-Chi!" Ox called as Chi-Chi made a move for the door. "Where are you going?"

Ignoring her father and all the bewildered others who were watching the scene unfolding between father and daughter, Chi-Chi raced through the door. There was no time to waste! She had to gather her supplies, prep her horse, and set out to rescue Gohan.

Ox started to run after Chi-Chi as she raced through the door, but a call forced him to come to a halt beside Mrs. Brief's table. "Mr. King! We need you here!"

Ox grimaced at Dr. Brief's reasonable voice, lowering his head somberly when all he wanted to do was chase after Chi-Chi. If his grandson was truly in danger, maybe Goku was as well. And Chi-Chi following them into that danger was the last thing Ox wanted.

The sound of a nearby trill laugh made Ox cock his head to the side, where Mrs. Brief was clasping in her hand a small vial of laudanum and looking at him. "That girl is so excitable, isn't she?"

"Mr. King," Yamcha's voice called from behind, "we need to decide what to do about-"

"Me?"

Everyone gasped as through the same swinging doors Chi-Chi just left, a shorter, more refined figure entered the saloon. When his beady eyes set on the crowd of men meeting in the saloon, the alarming proclamation from Chi-Chi was quickly forgotten.

Once he had everyone's attention, Frieza smiled. He enjoyed having a commanding presence. He enjoyed striking fear in people, as he clearly had done here. What he did not enjoy were people who thought they could actually exclude him from the dealings of their town.

Yamcha gulped. He'd never seen a man of such small stature, who stood with such poise, exuded so much confidence when he walked into the room, yet radiated so much hatred. Exchanging a glance with Tien, Yamcha knew he wasn't the only one feeling this way about the town's new saloon owner.

"Pardon the interruption, but it seems someone forgot to extend my invitation to this meeting." Frieza dropped the smile to glower at the men in charge. "I am, after all, now the owner of the largest saloon in West City, and judging by what happened to your bank, the overwhelmingly wealthiest man in town as well."

"Yes," Roshi clasped his hands behind his back and nodded, "you certainly are, and you're more than welcome here as such a prominent new figurehead in town. We simply assumed you would want time to settle before bothering with meetings, Mr. Cold."

Frieza tittered and took even strides past Ox and Mrs. Brief, towards the group of men. "Please, call me Lord Frieza. Everyone does. And as far as your consideration, Sir, I do appreciate that. But from now on, I advise you to not make any more assumptions about me."

As Frieza narrowed his eyes at Roshi across the bar, Roshi frowned back at him. He could see the ill-intent written across the man's face, even through the mask of a polite smile he wore. Roshi was afraid that Tien's speculation about Frieza's illegitimate business ventures was true. If so, Tien's saloon was in trouble. So were many innocent people in town who could be caught up in all of this.

"Of course not!" Mr. Satan laughed, offering his hand to Frieza. "It's nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. uh...Lord Frieza. Mark Satan."

Frieza eyed the extended hand and clasped his own hands behind his back. "Mr. Satan. What business do _you_ have attending this meeting?"

"W-well, I own Champ's." Mark smiled proudly, until Frieza failed to react to the proud announcement. "The bawdry house. Surely, a few of my lovely ladies must've caught your eye."

As Mark chuckled and winked, even daring to give Frieza a nudge with his elbow, Frieza pursed his lips in displeasure. "Yes. I've noticed them. So that is your establishment?"

Mark gulped, seeking the reactions from the others before continuing his conversation. When he finally noted the tension in the room and everyone else's wary glances at the newcomer, Mark forced a toothy grin at the man. What was he to do now, if he wanted to keep his daughter, his business, and his girls safe from this man who posed a danger to them?

"Y-yes." Mark's eyes lit as an idea occurred to him. "As my personal 'welcome to West City' gift for you, feel free to come down to Champ's and indulge in some pussy. On the house."

Frieza sniffed and raised his chin. "I have no use for such things." Then he peered at Satan. "But if you'll extend that offer to my men, perhaps your business and mine may start off on good terms."

Mark nodded. "Yes! Of course, Mr. Zarbon and Mr. Dodoria already love the ladies. They may come free of charge anytime."

"I mean _all_ of my men."

Mark grimaced as he worried how many men Frieza had, but nodded, trying to ignore the bead of perspiration falling down his temple. "Okay."

Tien clenched his jaw as he watched what was happening. As the new deputy, he should have been forbidding such an illegal trade. As the true owner of the West City Saloon, he was worried for the future of his business while the other two businesses were making such an arrangement. But as a reasonable man who valued his life, he knew keeping his mouth shut was the best move right now.

Frieza hadn't shown any signs of unease, but the man was well-armed, as Tien noticed with the revealing sway of his open, velvet coat as he moved towards them before engaging in conversation with Satan. And if the ease with which Lord Frieza carried those weapons was any indication of his ability to wield them, Tien didn't want to test the man. He was clearly much more than a wealthy entrepreneur. At least Mark Satan seemed to have the man appeased for the time being. Tien decided he would need Launch keeping a closer eye on Frieza's men from now on.

As Tien met Frieza's gaze, giving him a knowing look, a smile spread across Frieza's face. The man knew what the Ginyus were up to at the moment, and he seemed to be enjoying his power in town. When Tien looked away from Frieza, he caught a glimpse of Mr. King ending a quiet conversation with Mrs. Brief and slipping out the swinging doors of the saloon with something clasped tightly in his large hand.


	10. With A Cup Of Tea And A Blanket

When Ox finally caught up with Chi-Chi at her home, his daughter had already changed out of her usual ladylike dress, into riding pants, a blouse and jacket that fit her shape and left room for her to move well and access the guns in the holster slung around her hips. She probably hadn't slept a wink. She was packing a leather satchel with her basics, but more importantly with some heavy artillery she'd taken the time to retrieve. Ox's eyes widened briefly at the sight of the packed camel brown bag, before Chi-Chi secured it shut and slung it over her shoulder.

Her eyes lit on Ox when she placed a brown Stetson on her head and turned around. "Dad, stay out of my way!"

"Chi-Chi," Ox gasped and followed hurriedly after Chi-Chi as she stormed towards the front door, "what are you doing? I don't understand!"

As her father grasped her arm, Chi-Chi spun around and glared with determination. Her little boy could be attacked or killed at any moment, out there with all those killers. He was barely five years old. He still has his whole life ahead of him, and Chi-Chi would never forgive herself if something happened while she was safely tucked away at home.

"Dad, Gohan's in danger. I have to leave!"

Ox tightened his grip around her arm when Chi-Chi tried to go. "But you said Goku's out there, too. _He_ can take care of him."

"No!" Chi-Chi shook her head, frustrated. "You don't understand."

"So help me understand. Please." Ox slowly led Chi-Chi to her tiny kitchen table and sat her down as her resistance weakened with a solemn frown. "Let's have a cup of tea, and you tell me everything, and then I'll let you go if you really have to."

Chi-Chi frowned down at the table, feeling the need to run immediately, but also recalling the way her father had so easily held her back. He wasn't even trying yet, either. She glanced towards the door, considering making a run for it, but then realized her huge father had conveniently positioned himself closer to the narrow passage of the exit, so the idea of escape wasn't feasible. Struggling was only going to waste the valuable time she didn't have, and she supposed her father shouldn't be kept in the dark about the truth any longer, especially if anything should happen to her and she wouldn't make it back.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Chi-Chi looked away from the carved wooden door at the front of her home to meet her father's gaze. "You promise you won't stop me?"

Ox's whiskers spread as he smiled sadly. "I won't stop you from walking out that door if you have to."

Ox turned to the stove, lighting the flame and heating the metal tea kettle that always sat there, ready for tea. He was relieved Chi-Chi was calming down. Maybe now he'd have the chance to keep his daughter safe.

Chi-Chi sighed and hung her hat on the back of her chair. "Gohan isn't just in danger because he's out in the woods with those thugs, Dad."

Ox raised his brows as he collected a canister of tea leaf grindings from the upper oak cabinet. "Oh?"

"He's been in danger for the last few days, because he was kidnapped."

As he dropped the tea leaf grindings into two ceramic mugs, Ox gasped. "What? Kidnapped?"

"By a Saiyan."

Furrowing his brows at Chi-Chi's statement, while also narrowing his eyes at the tiny, concealed vial he discreetly pulled from his pocket and held above the teacups, Ox made a questioning grunt. "You're saying he's with the Saiyans? What about Goku? What about the fishing trip?"

As the tea kettle started to whistle and steam emerged from the metallic spout, Chi-Chi focused her gaze on the hypnotic, rising steam and sighed, leaning forward in her chair. "Goku's with them, Dad. Unless," Chi-Chi scratched at the dark hair tucked behind her ear and turned away with a grimace as her father delivered the aromatic, steaming teacups to the table, "unless Gohan _might_ still be with Piccolo."

Ox's eyes widened as he sat down and blew on his scalding hot, steaming teacup and then nodded towards Chi-Chi to do the same. "Piccolo Daimao?"

Chi-Chi absently nodded and sipped the burning, bitter hot tea, hissing and grimacing as a drip fell from her lip burnt by the scorching liquid. The surge of _pain_ was eye-opening. What was she doing sitting here? Gohan could be hurt. He could need her. And she was just _sitting_ here.

Chi-Chi shook her head fervently and thumped the teacup on the table. "I _can't_ , Dad. I have to save him."

"Wait!" Ox placed a stilling hand on Chi-Chi's fingers still tightly curled around the handle of her mug before she could stand. "You don't even know who you're looking for, Honey! And do you honestly think you have any chance of tracking down Piccolo Daimao? Or bandits who've been navigating their way through wilderness for years? If you're going to help Goku and Gohan, you need a plan. Calm down and let's think this through."

"Okay." Chi-Chi rapped her fingers impatiently and tapped her foot against the thudding floorboard beneath her as she took another brusque sip of tea. "Goku is supposedly rescuing Gohan. But he already did his job for the Saiyans and they should've come _back_ by now. Either the Ginyus found them or Goku never got Gohan back from Piccolo!"

Ox raised a bushy, dubious brow. "Job for the Saiyans?"

"And if they're not back by now," Chi-Chi took a large swig of her tea, ignoring the distasteful flavor of her father's bad brew as she glared over the rim at her father, "what do you suspect happened, huh? Goku failed somehow. Maybe someone killed him before he could get Gohan home safely."

At Chi-Chi's fearful grimace, Ox sympathetically shook his head. "Chi-Chi, honey, I'm not following you."

"There're more than enough people that want Goku dead. First Piccolo, then the Ginyus, now this Frieza guy." Chi-Chi scoffed and shook her head as she retrieved the hat from the back of her chair and placed it on her head.

Ox scratched his beard and watched his daughter carefully. "And the Saiyans?"

"No. _They_ don't want him dead."

Seeing her father's resolve weaken as he processed all the new information in awe, Chi-Chi grasped the strap of her satchel laid across her lap and shot from her seat as she tossed it over her shoulder. "I don't care whether or not I have a plan. I _have_ to _go_!"

"Chi-Chi!"

As Chi-Chi was already slamming the door open to reveal the outdoor soft haze of early morning light, her father couldn't chase her quickly enough. He wasn't going to stop Chi-Chi from leaving West City and saving her innocent son.

"Chi-Chi!" Ox stumbled after Chi-Chi through the wide-open door she hastily passed through. "At least let me come with you!"

Chi-Chi grunted as she glared straight ahead and made her way past the porch, past the blonde hussy gawking wantonly at her packed artillery, and trudged with her heavy boots through the muck on the street, towards the stables. "Only if you don't slow me down!"

Ox grimaced before his eyes fell upon the lovely Launch walking near Chi-Chi's home, in a basic white laced dress with an expanse of bosom popping for his eye to briefly admire. Then he hurriedly tipped his hat at her as he skipped past. He didn't have time to give the whore his attention now. He had a rowdy, determined daughter to catch up to, before something terrible might happen to her.

Pursing her lips in displeasure, Launch took a final glance over her shoulder at Mr. King chasing his determined daughter down the street. She couldn't imagine what was going on between them, but she had her own business to deal with. More accurately, it was _Mr. Satan's_ business that she had to deal with. After the conversation she'd just had with Tien that early morning, she was realizing she needed to get back to the bawdry house. Some of the newcomers were already seeing the girls, and she didn't want to miss her chance to get some info on them for Tien.

When Launch's eyes landed on the weathered wooden boards framing the entry to Champ's, she immediately smiled at the sight of the young girl sitting on them, her pink frilly dress splayed across the boards as she played a game of jacks. At Launch's first step on a subtly creaking board, Videl snatched the red rubber ball from the air and snapped her head up to look Launch in the eyes.

Launch stepped towards her with a nod. "Hey, Videl. Don't you ever play anything _inside_ , Darlin'?"

"What for?" Videl narrowed her blue eyes with a hell of a lot of bravado for a little girl sitting so low on the ground. "It's better than being in there."

Launch smirked. "You mean with the _whores_?"

"Launch!" A deep voice scolded from behind the closed bawdry house door.

After shooting a disapproving glare over her lithe little shoulder, Videl met Launch's gaze with her lip turned down in a frown. "I _mean_ with those new men thinkin' they run my papa's place now."

"Launch!" The reprimand repeated from Mr. Satan as the front door flew open to reveal him looking at the prostitute on the porch with a furious glare. "Don't you use that word in front of my little girl!"

"What word?" Launch shrugged and stepped over the pointed tacks scattered around Videl. "I ain't said nothin' I shouldn't have."

Satan shouted after Launch as she strutted past him into the establishment. "Bullshit! Don't you think you can trick _me_! Oh! I'm sorry, Videl!"

As her father cringed and grimaced apologetically at her, Videl shrugged. "You don't need to protect me from bad words, Daddy. I'm a big girl. And I _know_ this is a whore house. You don't have to get angry at Launch for sayin' it."

"Videl!" Mark clenched his eyes tightly shut when he couldn't look at those sweet blue eyes which were much too wise for their years.

He was ashamed as a father. His daughter should have been proud of his legacy. Sure, financially he'd be leaving her with a hell of an inheritance (or at least he would have if those damn Saiyans didn't rob the bank), and being that she had to grow up without a mother, he initially thought having so many women around would be beneficial to Videl. And to some extent, it was. But then there was _this_. She _knew_ Champ's was a whore house. And Mark thought he could keep her sheltered for much longer. How long had she known?

"Daddy, who _are_ those men? I don't like them."

"They're…nobody for you to worry about, Videl. Hopefully, they don't plan on sticking around here long." Mark frowned as his eyes fell upon the dark smears muddling the soft baby pink of Videl's ruffled skirt. "Look! You're getting your dress all caked in dirt by sitting on the ground like that. Why don't you go inside and get cleaned up?"

Videl scowled at her dress. She didn't care about that. But when she looked up to protest to her father, the front door slammed open and startled him.

"Damn! That Maron is a fine piece of work, Mr. Satan!" The gross, sloppily dressed man with a head that reminded Videl of a peanut shell slapped Videl's father so hard on the back that he nearly toppled forward. "We'll be back tomorrow for sure! Maybe I'll give another one of your whores a chance to ride my cock!"

"Watch your dirty mouth, Mr. Appule!" Mark growled furiously as he made an adamant gesture towards his attentively staring daughter. "At my place, you save language like that for the bedrooms!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Little girl." The homely man gave Videl a condescending pat on the head. "But maybe, if you don't want to hear nasty language, you shouldn't be hanging around a _whore house_!"

Videl crossed her arms tightly. "Champ's is a respectable, full service establishment for the honest entertainment of gentlemen."

Mark smirked proudly as Videl stood to her feet. "That's my girl. Videl, why don't you go inside now, Honey?"

Videl waited. She wanted to see the mean man leave before she'd turn her back on him. When the man turned to leave, she nearly did as well, but her father firmly tugged the man's sleeve. "Money."

The man scoffed and glared at Mr. Satan's hand as he released his grip. "What?"

"You gotta at least tip the ladies. I know I told Lord Frieza I'd waive my fees, but these girls are gonna walk if you all keep coming and don't give them something in return."

Appule spit on the wooden planks, right where Videl had just been sitting. "I don't need to pay a God damned penny."

"I'm asking you nicely here. Don't make me have to take it by force!"

As Appule eyed Satan's hand slowly sliding down to the gun at his hip, he frowned. "So, I suppose the other men inside will find me dead out here, since I'm _unarmed_ , and have to report the unfortunate incident to Lord Frieza. Is that what you want, Mr. Satan?"

Mr. Satan's hand trembled against the cold metal chamber of his gun. "N-no. It doesn't have to come to that. My generous offer still stands. I-"

"Really? Because it sounds to me like you're going back on your word." Appule's beady eyes narrowed in such a way that Videl felt the threat, even though she wasn't completely following the conversation. "Lord Frieza doesn't take kindly to cowards who go back on their word."

Videl clenched her fists and growled. "Are you callin' my daddy a coward?!"

Mark's eyes bulged. "Videl!"

"You take that back, you meany!" When Videl moved forward to shove the big bully off her father's property, her father seized her in his arms before she could make contact.

Appule snarled at Videl. "Put a leash on your child, Satan!"

When Appule raised a hand to Videl, Mark bravely inserted himself between them. "That's enough. I'm sure you already paid Maron when you were inside."

Appule raised his chin and took a long, deep breath with a scowl on his face. "I sure did."

"Then that's settled. Just next time, maybe you can give payment directly to me."

As Appule turned his back on Satan with tense shoulders and grumbled something that sounded insulting, Videl scowled at her father's worrisome face. "Daddy, that man didn't pay Maron."

"Honey," Mark ran his hand through the ends of Videl's soft, wavy pigtail falling lightly on her shoulder, "maybe Maron never did anything for him that she needs to be paid for. Daddy was just jumping to conclusions."

Videl pouted, crossing her arms again as her father released her hair which fell across her arms with a tickling sensation. She knew what she heard, or as much of it as she understood. Her father's words weren't adding up.

Mark sighed. "Can you get inside and get washed up already now, Videl?"

"I want to play outside a little longer."

Mark frowned sternly as Videl pouted at him, "Please, can't I just stay out until lunch?"

When a raucous deep yell sounded from inside the house, Mark cringed and snapped his head in that direction. "Maybe…okay. Just until lunch then. Don't stray from the house, Videl!"

When Mark leapt over the threshold to hurry inside and investigate that cry, he left his daughter out on the porch alone, with jacks in her hands and a puddle of bubbling spit on the ground, which she immediately toed around in order to reach the other end of the porch. There, she noticed a domineering presence making his way down the street, tugging a horse by the reins which seemed to be carrying a heavy load of goods on its saddle.

When the load, covered in a colorful, handmade blanket from the Namek tribe, wiggled before Videl's eyes, she furrowed her brows and trained her gaze on the horse and its owner. She was completely absorbed in investigating the curious item that savage had, so much so, that without realizing it, she was already following the horse away from her home. But it was too late for regret now. She had to find out why the packed items on the back of that horse were moving. Maybe the savage had some sort of wild animal for sale.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes over his shoulder. He was used to the sensation of eyes on him as he walked the streets of West City. People were always staring and making suspicious whispers about his presence, as well they should be. But being followed; now _that_ was unusual. The last person who had followed him anywhere was that intimidating Saiyan, who still owed him money for the kid currently stowed on his horse's back.

"Stay still." Piccolo hissed under his breath when he caught sight of movement from his saddle in his peripheral vision. "You're drawing attention to us, Kid."

"I don't-"

"And _don't_ talk!" Piccolo growled in frustration, baring his teeth to the irritating onlookers giving him curious glances from the streetside.

Gohan pressed his lips together tightly and did his best not to move. But the idea to draw that blanket away from his eyes and take a look at West City was so tempting. Maybe, if he just took a peek, he might see his mother again. Or he could see his house, or Mr. Roshi, or Sheriff Krillin. Maybe if _they_ saw him, he could go home and be safe again. But Piccolo would be really angry if he did that. And what would his dad think of him if he was still out there looking for Gohan, only to find out his son ran home like a little baby?

When Piccolo stopped at the West City Saloon, he took a deep breath and spent a moment studying the obvious changes around town. There were a few familiar faces and a lot of unfamiliar ones. The newcomers were all men, who all had unpleasant attitudes that Piccolo could read just from looking at them. The painted scowls on their faces, the immediate, disdainful glares he received every time he made eye contact, and the rigid nature of their gaits were enough to tip him off. He'd dealt with plenty of their kind before. These men were trouble.

He noticed as he passed the new saloon that it was finished, and seemed to be frequented _exclusively_ by those men, as every familiar face in town seemed to be evading the place as if it was crawling with late-stage lungers. A few prostitutes passed Piccolo, walking together and looking uneasy as they made their way back to Champ's. Kami's general shop was locked up tight, looking like it had been put out of business, at least temporarily. There were hardly any horses left in the stables, which meant quite a few people must've left West City.

When Piccolo spotted that long-haired, scar-faced deputy suspiciously glaring at him from the front of the sheriff's office, with the sheriff's badge pinned on his chest, Piccolo knit his brows tightly in bewilderment. "What the fuck?"

A tiny whisper sounded from his saddle. "M-Mr. Piccolo?"

"Stay here, Kid." Piccolo said through tight lips as he turned to tie his horse to the wooden railing outside the West City Saloon. "If you don't mess this up, I'll tell you everything I find out when I get back, and believe me, it'll be _much_ more than any simpleton in this town can tell you."

A questioning grunt made Piccolo growl an effective warning. "Once I know what's happening, I can find the Saiyans and get you back to your dad. Just fucking stay still."

When Piccolo turned around, he narrowed his eyes at the unexpected sight of a young girl with dark hair and a stained pink dress pretending to shop for goods from the dwarf's makeshift stand posted along the side of the street. She wasn't too close, but she was close enough that Piccolo realized _she_ had to be the one who was following him. The only other person close enough to be a suspect was that cowardly, drunken wares seller, and _he_ sure as hell knew better than to follow Piccolo Daimao. The Sheriff was clearly headed towards the saloon now, too, but his pursuit was much too clumsy to be the person that was behind him earlier.

Piccolo didn't have to worry about the girl, he decided as he made his way up the creaking wooden steps, to follow the new sheriff through the swinging doors of the saloon. He had more important adult issues to tend to, and one child had been enough for him to deal with. He wasn't going to trouble himself worrying about another harmless kid.

As Piccolo's noisy steps thudded, and then the loud creak and bangs of swinging doors told Gohan Piccolo had left, he was surprised to hear more steps approaching him. Maybe someone had seen him. If someone confronted him, he didn't know what he'd do. Piccolo promised to get him back to his father, and he _really_ wanted to see his dad again. Strangely enough, Gohan trusted Piccolo to do as he said. He didn't want to ruin the trust Piccolo might have in him by disregarding the rules he'd been given.

"I know you're under there." A small, sweet voice cooed, making Gohan's eyes widen in alarm. "What _are_ you, huh?"

As the area beneath Gohan's stuffy blanket was surged with daylight and fresh air, Gohan grimaced and realized there was nowhere for him to run or hide. When the blanket pulled back from his face to reveal to him curious blue eyes staring back at him, Gohan gasped.

"Holy smoke!" The girl whispered. "You're not an animal, you're a boy!"

"Shhhh!" Gohan seized the blanket in his hands and wrapped it tightly over his recognizable spikes of hair. "No one is supposed to know I'm here!"

The girl's eyes narrowed in a way that made Gohan's throat feel thick with anticipation. "Well, _I_ know you're here. And why are you hiding?" She glanced over her shoulder towards the saloon behind her. "Not for that savage, right? You _know_ that man?"

"Y-yeah. Sort of." Gohan clenched his eyes shut and shook his head. "I'm not supposed to be talking to anyone. Please, go away."

When Gohan pulled the blanket completely over his head, it was pulled right back again by the girl's soft warm fingers that briefly came in contact with his. "Aren't you Gohan? The Sons' boy?"

Gohan cringed, which Videl took as acknowledgement. Studying his telling grimace, she slowly nodded her head in positive recognition. She didn't interact with Gohan much, aside from seeing him around the schoolhouse from time to time. His momma mostly taught him from home. He seemed like a shy kid. But she'd noticed him, enough to see, now that the blanket was fully pulled away to expose his entire face, that this was definitely the same boy.

"I'm Videl Satan." Videl's eyes narrowed towards the saloon. "I heard my Daddy say _you_ mightta been kidnapped."

Gohan's eyes bulged as he tried desperately to conceal his head beneath the blanket again, but Videl wasn't removing her firm grip that held it back. "I-I was, but not by _him_! Please, just trust me. I need to stay with Piccolo so I can see my father again."

Videl took a deep breath, preparing to argue, but the hopelessly desperate look in Gohan's eyes made her hesitate. Her gaze softened as she took in the sincere look in his eyes and the worry she saw there. It made her think about her father. Maybe Gohan's father was in trouble. If hers was, she'd want the chance to see him again. Though she didn't understand how staying with a savage who wanted him to remain hidden from everyone else would help Gohan reach that goal, she uneasily made the decision to respect his wish.

"Fine, Gohan." Videl's eyes narrowed. "But if you're not back home by tomorrow, I'm going to find you."

Gohan furrowed his brows and shook his head fervently. "No! You can't do that! It's too dangerous out there!"

Placing her hands on her hips, Videl lifted on her toes in an attempt to come nose to nose with Gohan on the high horse's back. "And it's not too dangerous for _you_? I can handle it."

"I'm…" Gohan frowned, confused by the girl's overconfidence, "…with Piccolo."

As Videl stubbornly huffed and turned to lean her back against his horse's side with arms crossed, Gohan gnawed nervously at his lip. He was worried for Videl at the moment. If Piccolo came out and found her right up against his horse, she could be in trouble. If she really meant what she said, and Gohan didn't make it back to West City, she could put herself in danger by sneaking away to find him. And he couldn't think of a single thing to say to her to convince her that this was all a bad idea.

"Well," Videl turned and kindly patted the horse's side, "if you're fine being with Piccolo then, that's _your_ choice. But when you get back here, Gohan, I expect an explanation about all of this."

Gohan frowned. "An explanation?"

"Yes. You do know what 'explanation' means, don't you?" Videl pet the horse and then scowled at Gohan. "It means you need to tell me why you were kidnapped and what you've been doin' out in the wilderness alone with a savage when you get back. If I'm going to stay here where it's s'posed to be safe, I expect a good story when you get back."

"What do you mean where it's _supposed_ to be safe? Sheriff Krillin's always kept West City safe."

Videl gaped at Gohan before snapping her mouth shut. "Wow. You really _have_ missed a lot."

Gohan released a heavy exhale as he met Videl's gaze intently. "Do you promise you won't leave West City by yourself?"

"I promise." Videl nodded, and then looked at Gohan with a playful grin. "Why, are you _worried_ about me?"

Gohan frowned. "No. This is the first time I really talked to you, Videl. I don't know you enough to worry. I just don't want anything to happen to you because of me."

Videl glared. "Oh really? Then I'm glad you're not worried, you jerk!"

When Videl abruptly turned and stomped away angrily, Gohan stared at her, slack-jawed as he wondered what he did wrong. He _told_ her that he didn't want anything to happen to her. It just seemed like 'worry' was a strong word for a near stranger. He wanted to call to Videl to apologize for…whatever he did, but he knew that would draw unwanted attention to him, and Videl wasn't turning around on her own anymore.

However, all thoughts of Videl were forgotten as soon as Gohan heard a voice he'd been waiting much too long to hear. Though her voice was in the form of angry screams and growls from across the street, Gohan found his mother's nearby presence comforting. He couldn't help momentarily pulling the blanket back from his head a little more, as he attempted to glance discreetly over his shoulder, to the other side of the street.

Grimacing and grunting at the discomfort of her painstaking efforts to reach the stables across from the West City Saloon, where her father's horse resided, Chi-Chi forced herself to ignore the pain of the leather strap cutting into her shoulder and the points of the guns poking her in the back. As she trudged forward with a yell, with the heavy load thumping against her back, while uneven trenches and puddles hindered her way on the street, the effort became increasingly exhaustive. By the time she reached the stable entrance, she needed to pause and take a breath. Placing a supportive hand against the wall of the stable, Chi-Chi stilled. She had the alarming sense that she was so close to something right now. She also was starting to notice that something didn't feel right within her.

"Mom!" Gohan whispered to himself in awe as a smile spread across his face at the sight of his mother and grandfather standing together outside the stables. "Grandpa!"

Gohan nearly laughed to himself with joy and relief, until he noticed the guns strapped to his mother's back, and the dazed look in her eyes as she swayed into his grandpa's supportive arms.

"Chi-Chi," Ox huffed with labored breath as he reached his scowling daughter and placed a hand on the satchel over her back, "let me help with that."

Studying his daughter carefully, Ox removed the satchel from Chi-Chi's shoulder and pulled it over his shoulder. As Chi-Chi swayed and her knees slightly buckled, Ox's eyes drifted to the gray-skied heavens above as he let loose a grateful sigh of relief. It looked like the laudanum was finally working.

He felt guilty for having spiked her tea, especially when this venture was so obviously important to her, but a father had to protect his only daughter. Now Chi-Chi wouldn't be running out into danger, where she'd only be adding herself in the mix with the heap of trouble Goku and Gohan were apparently in.

"Dad," Chi-Chi lowered her head and leaned more heavily against the wall for support, "what…"

"Shhh." Ox gently removed the hat covering Chi-Chi's black bangs hanging over her glazed and dilated eyes. "It'll be alright, honey. You'll see. Goku can handle it. You just need to come inside and rest now."

Gohan furrowed his brows at the sight of his grandfather reassuring his mother about something. He was sure his mother had to be worried for him and his dad. He was just glad to see that she seemed to be recovered from the Saiyan's attack in their home. She had fought so hard to protect Gohan, and he wasn't even sure what that scary intruder would do to his mother at the time. But she was strong. Although, right now, she didn't look like her usual strong, overbearing self. Gohan had never seen his mother like this.

Chi-Chi closed her eyes as she swallowed tightly. Retreating to the house was out of the question for her, but she couldn't help feeling that her father was right about Goku handling everything. She shook her head to ward off that errant thought. No, her father still didn't know everything. Goku couldn't be trusted to do this alone.

A chuckle escaped Chi-Chi's lips. "I told you that Goku is a Saiyan, didn't I?"

Ox balked, temporarily removing his hands from Chi-Chi's shoulders. "Huh?"

" _Goku_ isn't even his real name. It's Kaka…somethin'."

As Ox gaped and stared at his daughter, Chi-Chi knit her brows together tightly and turned to clutch her father's chest. She felt like she was floating and couldn't recall what she was saying. Something was definitely not right. She couldn't help Gohan like this. But strangely, that thought couldn't bother her at the moment. Nothing could bother her with how euphoric she was suddenly feeling.

Ox wrapped an arm securely over Chi-Chi's shoulder. "Goku will protect Gohan. You'll see."

Chi-Chi stubbornly shook her head and licked her dry lips. "No! You don't understand. Gohan…"

As Chi-Chi trailed off and instinctively turned her head towards the West City Saloon, right in Gohan's direction, Gohan hurriedly gasped and ducked his head securely below the blanket. He wasn't ready for his mother to see him, not right now. As much as he wanted to go home, as much as he wanted to comfort his mother and tell her he was fine, he realized now that there was a greater need to follow through with Piccolo's plan and find his father. His father was in trouble now, and if Gohan and Piccolo could help in any way, he wanted to be there. As scary as it was, there was too much going on around him for Gohan to return home just yet.

As Ox pulled Chi-Chi along with him, his daughter sighing with absent-minded euphoria and dragging her feet along the way home, he hugged her shoulder tightly. Chi-Chi would be just fine when this was all over. Ox just hoped Goku would return home soon so he didn't have to see his daughter like this anymore. And he hoped, with whatever odd business was going on at the outskirts of West City, that Goku and Gohan were just fine. Chi-Chi would never forgive him for holding her back if anything happened to her son or husband.

When Piccolo emerged from the saloon, he was relieved to find Gohan's rainbow-colored lump in place on his saddle, just as still and quiet as he left him. The girl was long gone, and no one else around seemed to be taking an interest in Gohan, aside from the one curious glance he received from Oolong. A quick glance from Piccolo sent the little pig quivering and hurriedly turning to a distraction, though, so Piccolo was satisfied that he could leave West City now without any problems. And leaving West City, they would be doing, now that he knew the Saiyans were out there with Ginyus on their tails.

Piccolo patted his horse's neck and untied the reins.

"Mr. Piccolo?" The tiny voice hissed as soon as the horse started moving beneath him.

"It's me, Kid." Piccolo sighed and proceeded down the street of West City, in the opposite direction from that which Chi-Chi and Ox King headed. "We're going back out there."

"Did they tell-"

"Keep your voice down!" Piccolo spoke through clenched teeth as he warily eyed the streets around him, paying careful attention to the new faces of people going in and out of businesses and homes as he passed them along the way.

Lowering his chin and meeting the astounded gaze of Mr. Popo, who looked up from tending to the plants outside the shut-down general store, Piccolo clenched his jaw. He couldn't speak on these streets. There were too many curious eyes around, and apparently, far too many enemies.

"Mr. Pic-"

Piccolo growled. "That saloon-owner-turned-deputy didn't want to tell me a thing. But the new sheriff did."

"New-?"

"Did I say you could talk? Just _listen_!"

A beat of silence passed while Piccolo patiently waited, and Gohan held his breath in tense anticipation.

"Yamcha Puar is now West City's sheriff, temporarily. And he actually asked for _my_ help." Piccolo chuckled. "They _must_ be desperate if they think I'll help them."

A shuffle behind him made Piccolo stop mid-stride, but that abrupt movement seemed to be enough indication for his passenger when the movement stopped.

"Still," Piccolo narrowed his eyes as he passed the new saloon, its front porch drenched in purple and orange ribbons, plenty of armed men, fine curtains in the window and most likely on the inside, all kinds of comforts that most of the West never saw, "this town is _my_ main source of income. If these bastards are looking to take it down and they really don't work with people of my race, I suppose they're an enemy of _mine_ as well. We won't stand a chance against them without the Saiyans, though."

Piccolo sighed as he made his way forward, ignoring the reprehensible look he received from the old man rocking in a rocking chair outside the schoolhouse as he passed. The last thing he needed now was reprimand from that old codger. Kami was a traitor, fraternizing and being friendly with the white enemies for so long, who would strike down their entire tribe without a care. Kami failed to realize that these people were their enemies, and always would be. That didn't mean they couldn't work together though, to fight a common enemy. Right now, the townspeople in West City, the Nameks and even the Saiyans, were better off as allies. If a dangerous, notorious gunslinger was in their town, as appeared to be the case of this Lord Frieza, Piccolo knew they had a long battle ahead of them, or West City was going to belong to Frieza Cold. He had to find a way to unite these people and fight Frieza, and the Saiyans were going to be the first place to start. At least he knew Goku would be willing to hear him out. Piccolo had a trade to make with the Saiyans, anyways.

With a smirk, Piccolo glanced at the wiggling lump hidden beneath a soft blanket on his saddle. "We're going to find your dad, Kid. But don't expect this to be easy."

Gohan pulled back the blanket just enough to peek at the scenery around him. When he recognized sand below him, with wagon trails and horseprints, but no buildings or people up ahead, he turned towards Piccolo. "Can I come out now?"

Piccolo smiled and stopped. "Hop off. I'll ride us back to camp."

When Gohan hit the ground with a grunt, but landed on his feet, Piccolo smiled down at the proud expression on the boy's face. Then he tossed the blanket around, forming it into a ball and pressing it into Gohan's chest.

"Come on, Gohan." Piccolo climbed on the horse and grasped Gohan's hand, swinging the kid up so he could ride behind him. As the kid wiggled into place behind him, with the blanket softly pressed up against Piccolo's back, Piccolo placed his hands on the reins and lifted his gaze to the rising sun which had just barely separated from the horizon. There was still plenty of morning left, and if the morning's level of activity so far was any indication of how the rest of the day would play out, it was going to be a busy one.


	11. Reunions And Separations

When he opened his eyes in the early morning, the first thing Cell noticed was that it looked like a sunny, promising day. The second thing he noticed was the distinct sound of crunching leaves combined with vibrations of the soil beneath him that signaled someone's approach. Cell took his time reaching for his gun, knowing that whoever it was, they couldn't pose a threat to him. And whoever it was, it certainly wasn't his quarry. He had the final Gero on the run, and he wasn't going to shift his focus until he had her caught. He might've lost her and her heroic sheriff, and been stuck searching through the forest of trees amidst the open wilderness overnight, but now he felt he was coming close, and he wasn't going to lose ground, no matter who this was approaching his camp.

As Cell slowly turned a gaze over his shoulder, seeing a solitary horse with a native and child mounted on him, he almost dismissed the pair. They didn't seem too interested in him, either. But then, Cell realized that the native looked familiar. As Cell narrowed his eyes, studying the war markings of green painted on that horse's chest, he tapped his chin. Yes, something stood out about that native, and those war markings only added to Cell's suspicions. When he narrowed his eyes at the native's face again, though it was still distant and hard to make out the details, Cell was able to recognize enough characteristics to put the pieces together. Here, in West City, a bounty had been sent out months ago for a certain native who liked to commit crimes for hire and terrorize the good people of the town. One Daimao-something-or-other, he recalled. Yes, that had to be this native. Tempting, but Cell still wanted to finish things in a certain order. The native and his kid could wait, but this town was turning out to be the jackpot of bounties. Cell was only sorry he hadn't come to West City sooner.

Grunting with the effort of rising to his feet, Cell collected his gun and canteen, loading his horse in preparation to move, while the native eyed him carefully from the distance. This was going to be a busy day.

* * *

That had to be the bounty hunter. He was likely aware of their presence already, Piccolo realized as his horse slowly continued through the forest, but though he was packing his camp, he didn't seem interested in coming after them. Piccolo was slightly surprised by that. For a minute there, he expected to find himself a target of one of Cell's bounties, from what Tien had to tell him about the guy. It seemed he was the type who would be aware of any bounties in the area, and Piccolo was fairly certain that Kami had put one out on him not too long ago.

Seeing that the bounty hunter wasn't after them at the moment, as the man finished packing and rode off in the opposite direction, Piccolo decided to continue past the trees, into the open wasteland. There, he could see tracks of horse hooves, in clusters, dented into the dry, cracked soil drying out below the desert sun. There were only two groups that could belong to at a time like this. Either the Ginyus or the Saiyans. Either way, both groups were likely heading the same direction as one was pursuing another.

"We'll continue onto the next stretch of trees, Gohan." Piccolo decided.

"You think we'll find my dad there?"

Piccolo smiled at the small voice which had remained so quiet and deep in thought for a great stretch of their travel. "I have a feeling we'll find who we're looking for soon, just beyond there."

The tracks were fresh, and as some branched off in another direction, Piccolo paid those no mind. The horse tracks going that direction seemed heavier, wider-gapped, which indicated a hurried pace. The patterning of the tracks was organized like a group traveling in ranks, which didn't fit the Saiyans. That's why Piccolo dismissed _those_ tracks and decided to follow the other, sloppier arrangement of tracks. They would find _someone_ soon, regardless.

* * *

The campfire from the long, treacherous night before was burning out, the last crackles of the dying flames drawing Goku from his sleep-deprived, distant daydreaming. When he blinked back into awareness, he immediately looked down at his brother, laid flat on his back in the morning sunlight beside him.

Raditz had seen better days. His forehead was drenched in sweat, in spite of all the time Goku had spent during the night wiping his brow with a makeshift cloth soaked in the nearby river. The long bed of black hair laid below him was clinging to Raditz's neck as he hissed and writhed in pain. Goku clenched his teeth as he grasped the moist cloth by his side in another attempt at easing Raditz's pain.

Goku's eyes drifted to Raditz's bloodied leg as he dabbed the cloth on his forehead. The pant leg of Raditz's left thigh, at least the section which hadn't been torn away yet, was soaked across the middle in blood. The wound was still tied off, and Goku was keeping that leather strap as tight on there as he could. It was the only thing saving Raditz's life at the time.

Goku wished he could do more, in spite of the fact that his brother was a complete asshole and had this coming sooner or later. There were other people, more important people out there who needed his help right now. But Goku couldn't leave his brother to die out here. He couldn't do much more to help him, either.

Narrowing his eyes at the gaping bullet wound in Raditz's thigh, Goku felt his stomach churn. And it wasn't just because he was hungry. It was his brief consideration of removing the bullet that churned his stomach, something of which he'd always been squeamish – pretty much _anything_ that involved sticking needles or scalpels into people that didn't have something to do with fighting could set him off.

Judging by Raditz's level of pain and fading consciousness, Goku suspected the bullet was lodged in the bone. He was sure that he could use the fire to cauterize the wound (he'd survived enough sticky situations during his past with the Saiyans by having the same done to him), but without taking the bullet out first, that would be pointless. Raditz needed more help.

"Raditz," Goku broached carefully, noting the way his brother's brow twitched at his voice, "how are you hangin' in there?"

Raditz's body lurched as his eyes clenched tightly shut. "How the fuck do you think I'm hangin'?"

Goku laughed in relief as he shifted on the fallen log on which he was seated. At least if his brother could answer and have that attitude, he wasn't as far gone as Goku thought.

"Yeah." Raditz grumbled. "Have a laugh. This is _real_ funny."

Goku grew serious. This was an opportunity he couldn't waste. His brother was the only one who knew how to find Gohan. While he was still talking, Goku had to get that out of him, no matter what. As a breeze rustled through the scarce pine trees surrounding them, and leaves tumbled noisily across the wilderness floor, Goku leaned into Raditz.

"Raditz, how are we gonna find Piccolo?"

Raditz forced one eye open to peer disbelievingly at his brother. He thought the little shit cared about him, but apparently not, seeing that he was actually suggesting a hike through the woods at a time like this.

"We're not," Raditz coughed, then groaned in pain as that slight movement of his body made the pain radiate up his leg, "fucking moving."

"Raditz! I need to find my son! What was your arrangement for meeting Piccolo?"

A beat passed before Raditz closed his eyes and sighed. He knew his stupid brother wasn't going to leave him alone about this until he had answers, and it wasn't like Raditz could get away from him. He might as well say something, if only to shut Kakarot up. As Raditz took a breath in preparation to answer, the crunch-crunch of leaves under a heavy weight made Raditz swallow his words.

Goku sat at attention and rapidly grabbed his gun to point it towards the sound. "Raditz, someone's out there."

Raditz took a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut as he absorbed the bitter reality of his inevitable demise. "The Ginyus."

"No," Goku stood to his feet, peering into the distance, "I don't think so."

While the rustling approach continued, Goku realized the noise was much too quiet for a gang of riders. Holding his breath in anticipation, Goku aimed for a vague figure on horseback who came into view from behind a cluster of pine trees. He cocked the hammer, prepared to shoot, thinking if it wasn't the Ginyus, maybe it was that man from the shootout in town. Or maybe it was Frieza himself.

When the figure came forward, and Goku recognized the rider's different style of dress and the Namekian green paint on his brown horse, he gasped and lowered his gun to his side.

"Kakarot?" Raditz asked. "Who...who do you see?"

As the silence and Raditz's anticipation became too much to bear, he tried to raise his neck and peer over the length of his body. All Raditz could see from his poor vantage point was his brother, staring at the new arrival in stunned silence.

The rider smirked at Goku. "Well, don't you two look like a couple of pathetic Saiyans?"

Goku ignored Piccolo's snide remark when a small head peeked out from behind Piccolo and looked directly at him, sporting a trembling bottom lip and eyes welling with tears.

"G-" Goku gulped down the lump in his throat as tears burned the backs of his eyes, "Gohan?"

"Daddy!"

Piccolo watched as Gohan jumped from the horse, eagerly meeting his dad halfway as Goku was already approaching, disregarding any potential danger that Piccolo might pose him. While Goku knelt down and captured Gohan in his arms, Piccolo focused his gaze on Raditz, quickly assessing the damage to the Saiyan's leg.

As Gohan clung to his father tightly and cried into his shoulder, Goku closed his eyes in relief; his little boy was safe after surviving alone with Piccolo. Gohan surely had a tale of his own to tell, judging by the unkempt shag of his hair and dirt caked all over his face. But Goku didn't care about any of that. He was just glad it was Gohan and Piccolo and not someone else who found them.

Goku smiled as he pulled Gohan off his tear-soaked shoulder to meet his son's gaze. "Don't cry, Squirt! You're all right. Your mom is going to _kill_ me if I bring you back looking like this, though."

Raditz chuckled. "You got your kid back. Let me guess. The savage is here, too?"

"That's right." Piccolo jumped from his horse, the thud of his landing causing Goku and Gohan to break their hug and look at him. "And you know what I'm here for."

Goku glared at Piccolo and stood to his feet. "You can get to that later. Can't you see Raditz was shot?"

Gohan gasped, looking to the injured, sweat-drenched man on the ground and recalling how that man had snatched him from his mother's arms. Raditz couldn't be dangerous now, but seeing his face again resurfaced the fear Gohan felt that day.

Piccolo scoffed and crossed his arms, not at all surprised or caring about the nature of Raditz's injury. "I see the Ginyus found you. I'm surprised you got away."

"You know about the Ginyus?" Goku narrowed his eyes at Piccolo. "What have you been doin' with Gohan?"

"Laying low, for the most part." Piccolo snapped. "We just returned from West City. A lot has happened, Goku Son, and if you want your son to stay safe, I don't advise going back there with him yet."

Goku's brows rose in surprise at Piccolo's seemingly genuine concern for Gohan's safety conveyed by his tone, but Piccolo's remark about West City had him worried. Most of the danger Goku was aware of was out there in the harsh, dry wilderness with them, endangering Bulma and the Saiyans. But from the safe, cushy location of West City, another danger apparently lurked.

"What's in West City?" Goku raised a brow. "Frieza?"

Piccolo grunted in surprise, but quickly masked his expression and gave a curt nod. "So you know about him."

Raditz screamed, both in frustration and agony from his combined physical pain and the painful discovery of overhearing that Frieza was so close already. Not only was he going to die soon, but if Frieza caught up with him, Raditz knew he'd be dying slowly and painfully.

Raditz shook his head frantically. "No!"

"Piccolo!" Goku raised his gaze from his suffering brother to his longtime nemesis. "Raditz needs help. You know how to remove bullets, don't you?"

Piccolo balked incredulously. "I'm not helping him."

"I _can't_ , Piccolo." Goku growled and clenched his fists. "And if somebody doesn't, he's going to die!"

"Do you really think he has a chance of surviving?"

Goku scowled back at Piccolo's narrowed eyes. Piccolo knew the answer to that question as well as Goku did, or he wouldn't have asked it. But Goku refused to say, especially in front of his brother and Gohan, that Raditz had no chance. He refused to give up hope, especially as he felt Gohan clutch against the fringe of his pant leg.

"Please." Gohan looked once again at the nauseating sight of his uncle's gaping wound, then let go as he stepped forward to look Piccolo daringly in the eyes, "please, Mr. Piccolo. Can you help him?"

Piccolo took in Gohan's pleading gaze, his determination to help his own kidnapper, and he just couldn't understand it. What was _wrong_ with these Sons? How could they go out of their way to help someone who had been so awful to them? Piccolo pursed his lips pensively. Perhaps it was the same way in which Gohan had grown strangely attached to him over their past days together. Like how Piccolo knew he could trust the boy when they went into town, when most children would have run away.

"Fine." Piccolo scoffed as he reluctantly headed to Raditz's side. "I'll remove the bullet, but don't expect a miracle. I'm no healer."

"You _know_ any healers?" Goku asked as Piccolo gently pressed on the oozing wound and inspected it.

"I know _of_ some Namekian healers, but personally...no."

"Gohan," Goku looked down into his son's widened eyes, "would you be willing to go to the Namekian tribe with me?"

As Gohan blinked and gawked at the unexpected question, Piccolo gruffly interrupted with a shake of his head. "Goku. You need to get your son somewhere safe."

"I hear the Namekians are peaceful."

"They are." Piccolo looked up from Raditz's wound with a taunting smirk. "Thats why _you_ shouldn't go there. They may be peaceful, but they know how to defend themselves, and an infamous, armed white bandit, who's being chased by multiple murderers poses too much of a danger to them."

"But-"

"Go find someplace safe for Gohan. _I'll_ take Raditz."

Goku blinked, then furrowed his brows. "I thought you weren't part of the tribe anymore, Piccolo."

"I'm not." Piccolo reached for a small carved stone from his back pocket and marveled at it as he pulled it out; it was gray and shiny, carved by hand into the shape of a precise blade. "But they'll recognize my skin."

Before Goku could respond, Piccolo plunged the weapon deep into Raditz's wound without warning. Raditz released a blood curdling scream and lurched forward, while Goku rushed to his brother's side to hold him down.

Glaring at Piccolo, Goku fought to hold his struggling brother. "Dammit, Piccolo! What are you doing?!"

Piccolo ignored Goku and focused on his target, baring his teeth as he sought the bullet with precision. Once he located it, he dug it out, causing another agonized cry from Raditz as the bullet became dislodged.

Gohan watched the bloody ordeal in terror, panting nervously as he stood aside, wanting to help, but having no idea what to do. By the time Piccolo pried the bullet free and held it in the air for the others to see, Raditz had grown pale and passed out from the overwhelming pain.

"There." Piccolo threw the bullet on the ground beside Goku's knees. "I bought your brother some time."

As Piccolo used Raditz's pant leg to wipe his weapon clean of his brother's blood, Goku frowned at the blood-slicked, dented bullet laid on a bed of pine needles and pebbles. Buying time was all they could do for now, it seemed. And that wasn't just for Raditz. Goku wasn't sure what he could do with Gohan now. If West City wasn't safe, and the Namekians weren't safe, he didn't know where to go. He was worried about Bulma, and even Vegeta, with the Ginyus still out there. And he was worried about Chi-Chi and all his friends in West City. They had no idea how much danger they were in with Frieza in town.

Goku snapped his gaze to Piccolo, who was busy rebuilding a fire from the burnt embers of the previous night's fire. "What else did you learn when you went to West City, Piccolo?"

Focusing his gaze on the twigs piled before him and rocks in his hands, Piccolo answered indifferently. "The Ginyus are after you and the other Saiyans, likely sent by Frieza, who owns the new saloon and seems to think he runs the town now. Sheriff Krillin already left before he came, so Yamcha Puar is the new sheriff."

As Gohan frowned at the information he'd already heard along their travel from West City, Goku gasped. "Krillin left?!"

Piccolo narrowed his gaze peevishly at the disruption. "With Eighteen Gero. They were being pursued by Cell, a bounty hunter."

"Bounty hunter?" Goku blinked in realization. "You mean the guy who was shooting people in West City!"

Piccolo halted his work on the fire to purse his lips pensively with a considerate tilt of his head. "Sounds like him. He's a fast draw, from what I hear. And since he's a bounty hunter, chances are, he's heard of _you_."

Goku returned Piccolo's taunting smirk with an equally taunting smile. " _And_ you."

Goku couldn't help continuing to smile as he imagined how fast the bounty hunter might be, and if he would be able to match the bounty hunter's speed. As the scratching, caustic sound of Piccolo's rock grinding sounded again, Goku's eyes were drawn to the bright light that blazed from the small flame sparked in the pine needles and twigs piled near Piccolo's hands. He vaguely noted the shadow of Gohan as he sat on the leaf-littered ground beside Piccolo, beside the burning flame.

"Dad," Gohan marveled at the fire slowly forming and building from a tiny flame before his eyes, "we need to help the people in West City. They're not safe there."

"You're right, Gohan." Piccolo said with a frown. "But that doesn't mean _you_ should go back there."

"Why not?" Gohan snapped. "Aren't _you_ the one who wanted me to grow up and act like a man? I'm not afraid. If those people need our help, I'm not holding my dad back. He can help them. So can I."

Goku stared in awe at his son. He never thought he'd hear the sweet, innocent child he knew so well speaking in such a brave and confident way at this age. And this was his son. The determined look in Gohan's eyes made Goku smile as he swelled with pride.

"Gohan." Piccolo shook his head slowly, wishing to disagree with Gohan, but knowing that he couldn't argue with the boy's logic.

The kid was too smart for his own good. Piccolo wondered how he'd become so attached to this kid. It shouldn't have bothered him whether Goku Son's child stepped into danger carelessly beside his ignorant father, but it did. Piccolo genuinely didn't want to see anything happen to Gohan.

"Piccolo, I have to bring Gohan back to West City." Goku decided, before looking down at Gohan with a somber frown. "But first, Gohan, we need to see if we can help Bulma and Vegeta."

"Vegeta?" Piccolo quirked a brow. "Isn't that one of the Saiyans?"

"Yeah."

"You're taking your son with you to _another_ Saiyan?"

Gohan shot to his feet and clutched Goku's forearm. "Miss Brief's out here?"

Goku frowned at Gohan and solemnly nodded, then looked up to Piccolo with a smile. "Vegeta's..." Goku sighed, "deep down, I don't think he's as bad as he thinks he is. At least, he doesn't deserve to die because Frieza or the Ginyus want to kill him."

"Fool." Piccolo crossed his arms and grumbled incoherently in his native language. "You're only going to get yourself and your son killed."

"If we waste any more time," Goku frowned with determination, "you might be right. We need to move, Gohan."

"Gohan!" Piccolo drew the knife from his pocket and thrust it towards Gohan with the blade pointed down. "Take this. You might need it."

Gohan reached for the handle of the knife, gingerly accepting it from Piccolo's grasp. Speechlessly, he gave his mentor an appreciative nod. Piccolo smiled and nodded back as Goku quickly began loading his horse with the supplies from the campground, working around Raditz, the fallen log, and the fire.

Gohan looked worriedly down at the unconscious Saiyan, then back to Piccolo. "Are _you_ going to be all right, Mr. Piccolo?"

Piccolo's smile widened. "I'll be fine, Kid. You just worry about yourself. Remember not to be afraid to do whatever you have to."

Gohan smiled a small, reluctant smile. "Mr. Piccolo...thank you."

Piccolo' eyes widened, before he hardened his resolve. "Don't thank me. I only helped kidnap you, remember?"

Gohan smiled innocently back at Piccolo, clearly seeing right through his facade. That smile broke Piccolo. No one ever smiled at him like Gohan, and he had a feeling no one probably ever would. If anything ever happened to that kid, Piccolo didn't know what he would do.

When Gohan skipped to his father's side, assisting in tying the last of the items to the horse, Piccolo turned and watched them with scrutiny. He hoped Goku knew what he was doing, though he highly doubted it. And now he was going to be left here with Raditz, who would inevitably pay him for his service, but also hold Piccolo back from being where he really wanted to be. He had promised to bring this dying white man to a Namekian healer. He knew though, with one look at this killer, the other Nameks would strictly refuse giving him aid.

Goku mounted the fully-loaded Kinto'un and grasped Gohan's hand, pulling him on the back of the horse. "Thank you for taking care of Raditz, Piccolo."

"Kakarot."

Goku turned to the muted voice of his brother, who lay with his eyes still closed, still looking unconscious. "Raditz?"

"You…and Vegeta," Raditz tensed and hissed through clenched teeth, "better kill that son of a bitch."

Goku's eyes lowered to the ground as a small smile crossed his face. He knew Raditz was referring to Frieza, the man who killed their parents, killed nearly everyone in their hometown when Goku was just a small child, made the Saiyans' lives miserable growing up, and was the reason for them running off and forming their own band of bandits when they reached adulthood –even earlier in Goku's case. _That_ son of a bitch, Vegeta would gladly kill, and Goku would, though killing was something he usually wished to avoid.

"I hope you live, Raditz." Goku said as he looked at Raditz again, then cast Piccolo a furtive, meaningful glance. "But if you do, I don't ever want to see your face in my town again."

"Go, Goku." Piccolo said as Raditz lolled his head to the side and let out a weak chuckle. "And be careful out there. We're going to need your help to chase that bastard out of West City."

Goku nodded and smiled at Piccolo. "With Frieza and all his men, we're going to need all the help we can get."

Piccolo crossed his arms and smirked. "Just don't get killed before we get the chance to confront the guy."

"You're actually looking forward to fighting alongside me? _That's_ a surprise."

Piccolo chuckled as his eyes drifted from Goku to Gohan's smiling face. "I'm just full of surprises."

Gohan's smile widened as his eyes met Piccolo's. He felt confident and safe again in his father's presence. He also felt optimistic about the idea of his father and Piccolo teaming up. He didn't know anything about this Frieza guy, but he couldn't feel worried about him, not when he knew his dad, a _Saiyan_ , was on his side, along with Piccolo Daimao, who had a reputation in West City of being unbeatable. They would save West City, and Gohan would do everything he could to help, rather than be the useless little kid who got dragged along.

As the father and son rode off, Piccolo turned his gaze down at Raditz, sneering. "Are you still alive down there?"

No answer, so Piccolo went to his horse, retrieved an arrow from his belongings, and placed the stone tip into the small fire he'd made while talking to Goku and Gohan. He watched as the pointed tip heated, slowly changing color from black, to gray, to red, to white as the heat intensified. The fire lit his gaze, mesmerizing him until he finally pulled the arrow from the fire and turned away from it.

Crouching by Raditz's side, Piccolo carefully absorbed the serene expression on his relaxed face, just before pressing the heated arrow into Raditz's bullet wound on his thigh.

The scream that followed was so loud that Piccolo was certain he would need to move from that location quickly. Either the Ginyus would follow the voice, or Cell would, and either way, Piccolo didn't want to be there when they decided to attack Raditz.

Raditz sputtered in pain, lurching forward and clinging onto his leg as he tried to form incoherent words. Piccolo remained impassive, slowly drawing the hot tool off the wound once he decided it was sufficiently cauterized.

"What the - fuckin' – holy HELL!" Raditz used his good leg to thump his foot against the ground as he bit his lip and rolled onto his side.

"You're welcome." Piccolo spoke gruffly, before rising to his feet. "Now that's _two_ favors I've done for you. But I'm only going to ask you to pay me for the one job."

"Fuck you." Raditz panted, keeping his eyes clenched shut as he nuzzled his face into the leaves and dirt under his face. "You told Kakarot you were going to take me to a healer."

"What for? You're healed enough."

"I'm _not_ healed enough!" Raditz spat. "I can't believe my pathetic excuse for a brother actually left me alone with you."

Piccolo sighed, looking to the sky as he began losing patience with the writhing, contemptuous Saiyan at his feet. "You'd better hurry and get up. You'll get killed if you stay here any longer."

"You want your money?!" Raditz thrust his hand into his pocket, pulling out and flinging at Piccolo a scrunched wad of cash. "Take it! Now put me on a fucking horse!"

Piccolo bent down and retrieved the money, counting it carefully. "It's not all here."

"That's all you're going to get, Namek. Let's go."

When Piccolo started loading the horse, Raditz slowly climbed to his hands and knees. The fever was still overtaking him, in spite of all his brother's care and Piccolo's crude medical aid. His leg hurt like hell. And he hadn't eaten anything or had a decent rest for over a day. The exhaustion was taking its toll on him. Once he was on all fours, he turned his head to look at Piccolo, seeing that the native had packed up nearly everything from camp, and even put out the fire, and seemed to be getting ready to mount his horse.

"What are you doing?"

"Maybe Goku couldn't leave you for dead," Piccolo grunted as his mounted his horse, then smirked down at Raditz, "but _I_ can."

Raditz growled furiously. "Filthy savage! Where do you think you're going?!"

Piccolo's horse trotted a few steps before Piccolo pulled tightly on the reins and halted. "Where I'm needed. You? You can try finding the Namekian village, _if_ you can make it without anyone killing you, and _if_ they'll actually take you in. It's that way."

Raditz sneered as his eyes followed the direction of Piccolo's pointing finger. Past the grouping of trees right near them, there was nothing but wasteland for as far as Raditz could see in that direction. His horse was still off to the side, tied against a tree, but even on horseback, Raditz was sure he couldn't make it that distance alone. When Raditz turned to argue further with Piccolo, the Namekian was already off, his horse running away before Raditz could get another word in.

"Bastard!" Raditz pounded his fist into the ground after letting out a scream of frustration.

The Ginyus were out there, the bounty hunter was out there, and he was starving and alone in the wilderness in the worst possible shape. Nappa was dead. Vegeta was out there somewhere, but wouldn't give a shit about saving Raditz. And Kakarot had made himself pretty clear. Raditz was utterly alone.

* * *

After hearing unsettling screams coming from Raditz and Piccolo's direction, Gohan took one last glance back, before turning forward in the back of his father's saddle, on the old familiar horse he had missed for the past few days. He whimpered quietly, knowing he shouldn't be relieved yet. In spite of his father's lack of worry, Gohan knew there were many dangers in store for them.

As they rode away from Raditz and Piccolo, through the sparse trees, Goku smiled at the approaching open wilderness, sparse of trees and shrubbery. There, he knew he would likely be seen by any Ginyus or bounty hunter lurking in the area. But he wasn't worried, in spite of the danger. Gohan was safe with him, clinging to his back as they rode Kinto'un together. Gohan had apparently been protected by Piccolo, of all people, and was proving himself a survivor by his willingness to go along with Goku for this perilous journey.

No matter who found them first, Goku knew he'd be in for a gunfight, and he couldn't help feeling excited about having the chance to engage in one of those again. It had been too long since he'd had a real challenge where he could test his abilities. He had to save Vegeta and Bulma, too, and he hoped Krillin was safe out there, wherever he was, but Goku definitely wanted to rid West City of the threats lurking in the wilderness before he returned to West City. Because there, he would face his biggest challenge, and if he could take these guys down first, he was sure he'd be ready to confront Frieza.


	12. Another Roundup

All through the night, one Ginyu or another was standing guard. Bulma tried to sleep after a while as they traded shifts every hour, but she really wished she could just run away. Even now, as daylight finally seeped through the trees, illuminating the area around their dwindling campfire, one was still guarding their camp. The tall one they called Burter sat with his back against the rough bark of a pine tree, arms crossed as his gaze slowly panned over their surroundings. When his gaze drifted towards her, Bulma quickly shut her eyes, continuing to feign sleep like she had done while in this same predicament with the Saiyans.

Except now, the tables were turned. Now it was the Saiyans she had to worry would drop in on their camp and start a fight leading to her untimely demise. She needed to be gone before that happened. The only way she could see that happening would be if she could convince Burter to let her go. Maybe some use of her feminine wiles could help her out of this situation.

Acceding to her plan, Bulma moaned softly to make a sensual display of her arising, while raising her hands in the air and arching her back off the hard ground. _That_ would grab the lawman's attention.

The tired, somewhat erotic moans of the woman diverted Vegeta's attention only briefly before he peered from behind the tree again, returning his attention to Burter. Vegeta was going to kill that Ginyu, and hopefully the rest of them. That woman, whatever she was doing, just better not get in his way. Conveniently, whether she realized it or not, she happened to be providing a distraction as Burter turned his gaze to her and arched a brow.

This would have to be done while the others were still sleeping, or it would never work. Vegeta would need to attack most of them, but especially Captain Ginyu in his sleep. The captain was much too fast on the draw to be let loose in the midst of gunfire. After checking his gun as quietly as possible and taking a precautionary glance over his shoulder to find nothing but the quiet, empty wilderness, Vegeta turned a determined glare on his target and marched onward.

As Burter watched the woman sitting upright while the gray, soft blanket slid off her shoulders to reveal the curve of her slender, corset-covered waistline, Burter gasped at a surprising rustling from nearby. By the time he quickly turned to pull his gun on the intrusion, Vegeta was standing right in his face, holding a gun in one hand and pressing a sharp, cold knife to his throat with the other.

Burter sneered defiantly, ignoring the woman's stunned gasp behind him and trying not to gulp for fear of Vegeta's hard-pressed blade cutting into his skin. "Go ahead. Kill me. But you'll never get out of this alive, you fool."

Vegeta leaned forward, smirking to himself as he whispered into the sniveling man's ear. "Thanks for the warning, but I'll take my chances."

The sharp knife cut through layers of Burter's tender skin so effortlessly and so deeply that there was no sound to accompany the slicing of skin or the blood pouring from Burter's gaping wound. Even as Burter made an expression as if he were trying to cry out and alert his comrades, only a hushed gurgle emerged from his throat, while Vegeta caught his collapsing body, laying Burter gently on the leafy soil so as not to awaken the captain sleeping beside the horror-struck woman who was staring at him.

When Vegeta met her eyes, Bulma tensed. Maybe he would kill her next. He seemed to have no remorse whatsoever after so easily killing the man who was still dying at his feet. But when he raised his finger to his lips, urging her to remain silent as he stepped forward with a sinister look in his eyes, Bulma actually breathed a silent sigh of relief. She couldn't believe she was relieved at a time like this, but she could tell that the Saiyan's only intentions were to take out the Ginyus. Maybe if she was lucky, he'd actually let her go home after the lawmen were dead.

Vegeta's predatory gaze panned over the three remaining sleeping Ginyus as he made his stealthy approach, clutching his gun to one side and his bloody knife to the other. Knifing then all would be the smart way to go, but it was such a fucking mess. He could shoot them more quickly, but once he got started, the others would awaken and fight him.

Vegeta turned towards Jeice, the one Ginyu looking like the lightest sleeper in the bunch and positioned furthest from the others. As Jeice took a sharp breath and rolled over, Vegeta cast a smirk over his shoulder to the woman staring intently at him with her blanket clutched to her ample bosom. Then with his gaze fixed on her, he raised his gun and fired, killing Jeice instantaneously with a direct shot to the head while also awakening Recoome and Ginyu with the shot. There was no fun in killing if there was no fight involved, after all.

Bulma glared disbelievingly at the psychotic Saiyan as he just stood there smirking, shooting a gun when he could have easily made that kill more quietly. She thought she was going to escape from this hell, but now she was sure she wasn't, thanks to that stupid bandit.

"What the fuck?!" Captain Ginyu snapped as he opened and vigorously rubbed his eyes, waking up to a chaotic scene.

 _Vegeta_ was there! And as Captain Ginyu scrambled to his knees, Vegeta's gun was aimed right in his face. Recoome was fortunately awake, too, and moving in to take a swipe at Vegeta's head with his oafish fist. Burter and Jeice were both laid out and bleeding, likely dead. And the lady was still there beside Ginyu, backing away on hands and knees and looking petrified.

When Bulma heard the crushing punch and watched Vegeta fall to the ground, dropping his gun after taking that hit to the head, she knew he had to be done for. There was no way a man as short as him could take on that huge guy. Especially as she watched Recoome approach Vegeta with a chuckle and reach for a jagged knife laid by Burter's bloody body. She had to clap her hands over her eyes. She couldn't watch.

Captain Ginyu turned away, taking precautionary measure in case Recoome might manage to screw things up with Vegeta. Hurriedly, he reached for the nearest gun, checking the chamber to see that it only had one bullet. But one bullet would have to do.

As the captain turned to face them, Recoome wielded his knife in Vegeta's face, bending down to face the Saiyan grunting in pain and looking up at him on hands and knees. "Any last words, Vegeta? I think I'm gonna gut you slowly for what you just did to the others, you little piece of-"

An abrupt, guttural grunt made Bulma hesitantly pull her hands from her eyes. When she looked past the gaping Ginyu captain, to the Saiyan on his knees and the large, red-headed man standing behind him with his face contorted in pain, she couldn't understand what had happened.

Vegeta bared his teeth as he tugged his blade free of Recoome's calf, just before plunging it again into his abdomen.

"Aaahh!" Recoome's scream morphed into a gurgle.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes hatefully at the dying bastard. _Nobody_ talked down to him like that, especially not some dirty lawman who claimed to be honest while illicitly working at the bidding of someone as vile as Frieza Cold.

As blood spewed from Recoome's mouth, Ginyu snarled, enraged. _No one_ was getting away with taking out his men like that, especially not some worthless peon who was only on their radar because his gang owed to Lord Frieza!

Vegeta stood and kicked his foot hard into Recoome's solid chest, toppling over the groaning, gargantuan man. Then Captain Ginyu lunged at him with a growl.

Bulma yelped as she watched the captain tackle Vegeta to the ground. Their screams of rage and pain were grating to her ears, but she knew if she didn't do something, and Vegeta died, she was still in just as dire a situation as before being left alone with the creepy Ginyu captain. As she scurried on hands and knees around the campfire, searching for something, anything to help, she cursed Goku for leaving her like he had. When she saw him again, she swore to herself, she was going to slap that man so hard his head would spin.

Cringing at the bone-crunching sound of punches being landed, Bulma placed her hand on a gun she found lying beside Jeice's dead body. She grimaced in disgust as she pulled it away from his lifeless eyes and then spun the chamber to check for bullets. When she saw the gun was fully loaded, she wrapped both hands around the handle, readying her finger at the trigger as she raised it to the fast-moving, grappling mess of the Ginyu and the Saiyan. Her hands were shaking as she tried to track the captain's movements, realizing if she shot now, she was just as likely to shoot Vegeta as him. When the captain cocked his gun, aiming it for Vegeta's head, Bulma let out a scream.

"Vegeta!"

Vegeta gasped at the shrill cry of his name, before landing his eyes on Ginyu's gun pointed at him, and then the Captain's smug, smiling face.

As the captain tensed his finger on the trigger and Vegeta ducked his head away from the bullet's trajectory, a gunshot rang through the air, immediately followed by a second, while both men fell to the ground, grunting on impact.

Bulma's hands were shaking uncontrollably as she lowered the smoking gun towards the ground. When the gun finally fell loose from her trembling fingers, hitting the ground with a thud, Vegeta's gaze shot to her. Vegeta was looking at her, baring his teeth as he clenched an eye shut in pain and braced a hand against his shoulder. But he was _alive_. And Captain Ginyu...Captain Ginyu wasn't getting up. She had shot the captain and...killed him.

Vegeta spat on the captain, glaring at the hole in his back as he laid face-first on the ground, his contorted face caked in dirt. Then he shot a glare at the woman who was near hyperventilating as she stared at the lifeless body.

"What'd you do that for?"

Bulma's eyes bulged at the abrasive question. "He-he was going to _kill_ you!"

"I didn't need your help."

"Like _hell_ you didn't!" Bulma stomped her foot. "Is _this_ how you thank people for saving your life? I-I just _killed_ a man! Oh, God, I just killed a man!"

"Don't get hysterical. He was a piece of shit, anyways."

Bulma released a shuddering breath and glared. "Not unlike _you_ , right?"

"Is that," Vegeta bent down with a grunt, retrieving his gun that he'd dropped in the scuffle with Recoome and the captain, "how _you_ thank people for saving your life?"

Bulma gasped, her mouth opening slowly as she realized that Vegeta _had_ saved her life. Only God knew where Goku had gone, and no one else would've known where to find her. If Vegeta didn't follow the Ginyus, she'd likely end up as dead as those guys.

"Th-thank you. Oh, you've done a _great_ thing saving me. You don't even know." Bulma smiled, keeping her chin high so as to avoid glancing at another dead body on the ground.

"Well, don't flatter yourself. I didn't kill them to save you. These fools and I had unsettled business. They were going to kill _me_ the first chance they got."

Bulma bared her teeth, before storming up to the uncivil man and shoving her hand hard enough into his chest to force him stumbling backwards. She was prepared to give him a tirade, to _demand_ he treat her with some respect like a lady should be treated, until he unexpectedly screamed in pain from her touch.

Hissing through his teeth, Vegeta clutched the gaping wound in his chest and glared through hazy-eyed vision at the woman. As moisture oozed between his twitching fingers, Vegeta used significantly more effort than he wanted to in suppressing the searing pain he felt in his chest and shoulder. His hand, as he pulled it away with a grunt of pain, was soaked crimson with blood.

Bulma gasped. "Y-you're shot!"

"No shit."

"Let me see." Bulma moved in, bowing down to bring herself eye level with the wound, but the Saiyan stubbornly pushed her away.

"It's just a flesh wound." Vegeta snapped, turning his wounded shoulder from her as he brushed past and stumbled in the direction where he left his horse. "I need to get away from here."

As Vegeta shoved past her, Bulma sighed and shook her head. She didn't know what she was supposed to do with that strong-willed Saiyan. She was tempted to climb on one of the Ginyus' horses and ride out of there by herself, but she knew it still wasn't safe out there for her. She had no survival skills; she was a city girl. And West City was where she needed to be. She needed to go home. Bulma opened her mouth to argue with the staggering Saiyan, but the words caught in her throat when she saw Vegeta's legs buckle. Her intended words came out instead as a gasp when Vegeta collapsed to the ground. She rushed to his side, hands clenched to her chest and heart pounding fast.

"Vegeta!"

As Vegeta opened his eyes to see a beautiful pair of oceanic blue eyes looking down at him, he had no clue what was happening. For a moment, he couldn't recall where he was or what he was doing here. But as a twinge of pain radiated from his chest and the woman touched him, cradling his head in her delicate palm, he remembered.

"Don't die on me, Vegeta! You've got to get me back to West City!"

"Bullshit." Vegeta sat up, shaking his head fervently to keep the blood flowing and regain some stamina. "I'm taking my money and headin' the hell _away_ from West City."

"Don't be an idiot." Bulma narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms as she watched the Saiyan's stubborn attempt at rudely walking away from her. "There isn't another town for miles. You'll never survive alone out here with that injury. You need a doctor."

Once his footing predictably slowed and stumbled, Bulma stood up. He was such an asshole, but that asshole was the only man she had to rely on right now. She would show him how stupid he was being, as men often were and failed to admit. Sweeping up the couple of guns nearby, Bulma shook her head as she worried whether Vegeta would be useful enough in that condition to protect her from any other aggressors out in the wilderness. She would need to take care of his wound the best she could out there, and then they could make their way back to town. With a dismissive glance at the back of the struggling bandit, Bulma strutted towards the Ginyu horse of her choice - a pretty white mare.

Vegeta fell to his knee as he heard a neigh and shuffling behind him, before he forced himself to get back up and turn. "West City...is-"

He wanted to tell her that Frieza had to be there by now. Her pretty little town and whatever and whoever she cared about in it were as good as gone. That stupid woman was going to lead him right to the person he was trying to escape if she had her way. But that damn wound was sucking the energy right out of him, his stomach churning from the intensity of the pain by the time she came to his side.

The horse was nearly packed, the Saiyan was close enough for Bulma to load him on the horse, and she had a great sense of direction, so heading off to West City wouldn't be a problem. It was the dangers of nightfall they might encounter, the Namekian tribes, the scoundrels she might face while Vegeta was vulnerable that had Bulma worried. If they were lucky, they might cross Goku's path during the day. If not, she just hoped she could nurse Vegeta to health enough for him to fight if someone else arrived to pose them harm.

As Vegeta's head lolled forward, the hat tumbling off his head and rolling away with the wind, Bulma threw her hands forward to support his chest, before guiding him towards their awaiting horse. "Hang in there, Vegeta. I'll do what I can for you."

Taking one staggering step at a time with Vegeta's heavy weight bearing down on her, Bulma had the opportunity to take a closer look at the cold, hard bandit. She'd never spent so much time around vile criminals before, with the exception of Goku, she supposed, but she never knew he was a Saiyan back then. She supposed they weren't all that much different from regular people. Vegeta was trying to look out for himself, just as much as Bulma always had for herself. She couldn't hold him at fault for that, anymore than she could fault him for killing people, people who were going to kill him _and_ her.

As she watched Vegeta with his head hung low, sweat lining his tense brow above his scrunched eyes as his body struggled against the intense pain it had to be enduring, Bulma felt a smile ease across her face. She noticed now that when Vegeta wasn't so busy being mean and scary, he was actually very handsome. His dark hair and dark eyes contrasted beautifully with the surprisingly smooth, pale skin of his face, and even with the lines caused by years of scowling across his brow, his face shape was beautiful and masculine all at once. When Bulma's eyes wandered to the soft, pink lips of the man draped over her shoulder, she was surprised by an abrupt, abrasive voice.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." Bulma glared as her eyes met Vegeta's one open eye suspiciously narrowed at her. "Now get on the horse."

Vegeta angled his body towards the white horse standing beside them, grumbling to himself when he realized it wasn't _his_ horse she'd taken him to. That woman probably picked the weaker horse just for the color. With a roll of his eyes, though, Vegeta grasped the saddle and slung his body onto the horse, grunting as he bore the pain that went along with all of that action. He didn't have much of a choice at this point. He was sure he was going to pass out again, and his only chances of survival for now rested in the hands of a prim and proper woman who knew nothing about fighting or the terror of Frieza.

Bulma frowned as she watched the pain written on Vegeta's face as he finally settled, laid across the back of the horse. Sympathetic though she felt for his pain, as well as appreciative of her second chance at survival, Bulma knew she had to get that man to her father. Dr. Brief could patch up that injury, and in West City, Yamcha and most of Bulma's friends would still be there to keep her safe, in case this guy decided to turn the tables again once he was healed. But at the very least, she owed it to him to help him. She just hoped they could make it back to West City in one piece.

Bulma glared with determination as she climbed in front on the horse's saddle, grabbing the reins and glancing back at the half-conscious man. "We're heading to West City, whether you like it or not."

* * *

Sunrise was a welcome sight. Krillin could never express the amount of gratitude he felt, knowing he'd survived to live another day. Of course, _his_ life might not be in danger from Cell, but he had Eighteen in his care now. She certainly wouldn't go down without a fight, not after the way she'd been grieving over her brother for the past day. Krillin felt awkward talking to her on the subject, but then again, he always felt awkward in her presence. Sighing with his head lifted towards the sunny morning sky, Krillin finished filling his canteen at the stream and stood to set off again, back towards their camp. Part of him worried that Eighteen would be gone, having deserted him when she awoke. But another part of him was excited at the prospect of returning to find her there.

Eighteen sat up in her makeshift forest floor bed, realizing she was alone when she shifted her gaze to Krillin's blankets and found them wrinkled and abandoned. She didn't react to that, though. She knew the little sheriff would return. Truth be told, Krillin really was sweet, more than she ever realized before. No one, probably not even her tragically murdered twin brother, would have gone through this amount of effort for Eighteen, who had given the sheriff so much trouble during her years of terrorizing West City with her relatives.

Escaping Cell had been nerve-racking, yet Eighteen was far from relieved. He was still after them and they were like a couple of sitting ducks, just hiding out in that wilderness. He was a bounty hunter, and a good one. Cell was bound to find them eventually if they didn't do something. Eighteen just didn't know what to do, aside from killing the bounty hunter herself, which after witnessing the way he killed her brother, she wasn't certain she could do.

When Krillin made an about turn, putting the slow, babbling stream to his back and the sparse forest of trees, as well as Eighteen not too far ahead of him, Krillin paused at an unexpected noise. He didn't have his gun on him, which he immediately regretted as he grimaced and hurried to the trees, putting himself safely behind some cover. As he braced his back against the rough pine bark of one narrow tree, Krillin peered towards the sounds of horse's footsteps and voices. Surprisingly merry voices, for someone who could be looking to kill him.

Furrowing his brows and frowning in bewilderment, Krillin stepped out from behind the tree, dropping his metal canteen to his side as he sighted the tan horse appearing from behind a cluster of pine trees. Immediately, a smile lit his face when he recognized the riders. He didn't know what in the hell they were doing out there, but man was he glad to see them! Goku was a sight for sore eyes, and his friend looked so happy, riding with his son on back of his horse. It was almost as if he didn't realize he was in a wilderness full of terrifying killers.

Instead of coming right out and greeting them, Krillin ducked back behind his tree, watching and waiting as father and son rode Kinto'un to the stream. His smile stretched across his face as he stifled a snicker, knowing they were too close and would hear him now. When the horse lowered its snout to the stream and Goku and Gohan jumped off, taking a break to stretch their limbs, Krillin found his opportunity.

"All right, you two! Put your hands up!"

Slapping a hand over his traitorous mouth, Krillin laughed silently as he watched Goku and Gohan exchange a wide-eyed look of alarm before their hands shot into the air. But his laughter was short-lived when he glimpsed that sparkle in Goku's eyes, the one telling him that Goku was up to something. What was he thinking, surprising _Goku_ like that? He was going to get himself killed with this stupid joke!

"It's just _me_ , Goku!" Krillin jumped out from behind his tree, waving his palms and laughing.

The sight of Krillin made Goku exhale heavily in relief. He'd never been so pleasantly surprised in his life. Not only did he know now that Krillin was safe, but he was right in front of him.

Gohan smiled up at the relieved expression on his father's face. That could've been one of the Ginyus catching them out here, or this Frieza guy Piccolo and his dad had warned him about. That idea had been terrifying for a brief second, before the welcome sight of Krillin's face came into view. As a smile stretched across his dad's face, Gohan returned his gaze to the sheriff, laughing in relief. "Sheriff Krillin!"

The looks on Gohan's and Goku's faces were priceless. Krillin had never seen anyone look so dumbfounded as Goku looked when he first jumped out. Of course, he could always put one over on Goku, whenever they weren't fighting or playing cards.

Goku stepped towards his friend, giving Krillin a slap on the back. "You scared me for a minute there, Krillin!"

"Yeah," Krillin chuckled, "you scared me, too, Goku. For a minute there, I thought you were going to shoot me."

"I was." Goku smiled, turning to the stream again as he called over his shoulder, "it's a good thing you told me it was you, huh?"

Gohan tilted his head, watching as his father passed him by and Krillin visibly paled. "You all right, Sheriff?"

"Y-yeah. What…what are you two doing out here anyways?"

Gohan grimaced towards his busily working father. There was so much happening in and around West City now, activity like Gohan had never seen in his short, peaceful life in that town. He was starting to lose track of all of the events, all of it blurring together into one crazy adventure. On top of that, seeing what was going on out here now, he really hoped his friend Videl didn't decide to follow him. Of course, knowing she, like his mother and grandfather, was there in town with that man Frieza was just as scary. It seemed like there was nowhere safe.

Gohan met Krillin's curious gaze with a sigh. "That's a long story, actually. We didn't come out here together."

"Yeah," Goku turned towards them again, wiping water from his mouth with the back of his hand, "Gohan and I found each other out here, and now we found you."

Gohan furrowed his brows. "Hey, weren't you supposed to be with Miss Gero?"

"Eighteen!" Krillin gasped, spinning towards camp. "I left her at camp. That crazy bounty hunter is after us!"

"Cell?" Goku asked.

Krillin frowned deeply, gripping his canteen while Goku took the reins to Kinto'un. As he led the Sons and their horse towards his camp, Krillin slowed and knit his brows. The only solution he could see to their problem, the only way to get back to West City, would be killing that bounty hunter. He just knew Cell wasn't going to give up until he had Eighteen, one way or another. And there was no way Krillin was going to stand by and watch that woman get killed. He cared about her.

"That lunatic killed her whole family, Goku." Krillin pursed his lips. "And now he's after her."

Goku scratched his head. "Haven't you been trying to _lock up_ the Geros?"

"W-well!" Krillin clenched his teeth, unable to look Goku in the eyes as his face flushed with heat. "That was different. Things have changed."

"Ohhhh," Gohan smiled, tilting his head to peer at the redness of Krillin's face that the older man was trying to hide beneath the wide rim of his hat, "I get it. You _fancy_ the lady bandit."

Goku laughed, so loudly that Krillin couldn't even give his indignant retort as he clenched his empty fist and clenched his jaw, tensing his shoulders to his ears. He had no idea it was that obvious, that even a child could pick up on his feelings. If Gohan could see it, and Goku seemed unsurprised by the revelation, then what must Eighteen be thinking? She had to know he had feelings for her, and yet she was still staying close to him? She wasn't repulsed? She wasn't even hinting at him to back off. That was strange.

Goku's hand landed hard on Krillin's shoulder. "Want me to ask her to escort you somewhere, Krillin?"

"Sh-shut up, you two! I don't need any help talking to a pretty…a pretty…lady."

Goku blinked, before glancing ahead at what had Krillin so taken aback. They had reached the remains of a camp, where everything had been picked up and loaded on the lone horse, with the exception of a blue blanket thrown on the ground. Standing with her hand braced on the back of that horse, was an angry looking blonde woman in a fringed pair of pants and matching jacket.

"Krillin. I see you brought company."

"H-hi, Miss Gero." Gohan moved to step forward, but Goku firmly planted his hand on his son's chest.

Goku still wasn't sure if Eighteen was as safe to be around as Krillin seemed to think. She had never been a very good person when they were in town, but then again, Goku never really knew Eighteen Gero too well. Aside from that, he could see that there was something going on between Eighteen and Krillin, of which Goku didn't want them to get in the middle.

"Eighteen," Krillin chuckled uneasily, lowering his hat to brace it against his chest, "you know the Sons, right?"

"What are _they_ doing out here?"

Goku's brows lowered as he recalled exactly why they were there. Bulma and Vegeta, as well as Piccolo and Raditz were still out there somewhere, and he was well aware of the bounty hunter on Krillin and Eighteen's trail, who could strike at any minute. But they really needed to get back to West City. Goku had a feeling something horrible was going to happen there. And all their friends were in danger. _Chi-Chi_ was in danger.

"We need to save Miss Brief." Gohan said with a determined nod. "And Dad's friend-"

"Vegeta doesn't need anyone to save him, Gohan." Goku decided with a slight smile.

While Eighteen crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes pensively at the Sons, Krillin blinked at Goku. He had almost forgotten about Bulma being taken by the Saiyans, what with all of his own problems going on. He had no idea that Goku could have seen her again. He was happy to know, for now at least, that she was still alive.

"Bulma's," Krillin let out a breathy laugh of relief, "Bulma's okay?"

"She is," Goku shrugged, "I think she'll be okay."

Goku was certain Vegeta would survive on his own, and was perfectly capable of protecting Bulma. But he still worried for Bulma. Capable or not, he was uncertain about whether Vegeta would be _willing_ to keep Bulma safe. Bulma was clever, though, and now with both Gohan and Krillin by his side, Goku couldn't see backtracking all of them through the wilderness for her. No one ever said they intended to hurt Bulma, anyways. _They_ needed to move on to West City. Goku would have to trust Vegeta and Bulma, as well as Piccolo and Raditz to look out for themselves.

"So," Gohan raised his brows at Goku, "we're going back to West City?"

"Yeah," Goku chuckled, reaching down to ruffle his son's black, unkempt hair, "I'm bringing you home to your mom."

"This is all great," Eighteen grumbled, crossing her arms as Gohan laughed excitedly, "but what the hell are we going to do about that bounty hunter?"

Goku met Gohan's gaze as he removed his hand, then locked eyes with Krillin's worrisome frown, and finally gave Eighteen a nod. "We'll have to kill him."

Gohan stumbled back. "Kill?"

"Goku?" Krillin gasped, though Eighteen smirked and pulled a gun from the holster at her hip.

"We have to, Krillin. He wants to lock Eighteen up. He's gonna want to lock me up, too."

"And if his bounties don't go willingly," Eighteen spun her gun chamber, narrowing her eyes, "well, you've seen what he does."

"You too, Goku?" Krillin chuckled skeptically at Goku. "Why? What'd _you_ do?"

Goku frowned, exchanging a glance with the curious eyes of his innocent son before taking a deep breath and looking at Krillin. He couldn't tell Krillin the many laws he'd broken in his early years with the other Saiyans. He couldn't tell Krillin the terrors and cruelty he'd witnessed from Frieza before he and the others got away. He couldn't admit that he'd escaped from jail once before and had been an outlaw long before ever meeting Krillin or anyone in West City. And he especially couldn't tell any of that to Gohan. But he knew why Cell had him on his bounties, and with how long it had been and how elusive he had managed to remain, he knew this would be a fight a serious bounty hunter wouldn't be willing to let go. The trip to West City was going to have to be put on hold. He couldn't send his son there without him, not with Frieza in town. But Gohan couldn't stay here with Cell coming for them.

"Gohan," Goku retrieved his gun and inspected its chamber, "I'm going to need you to go somewhere safe with Krillin."

"What? Dad!"

"Listen, Gohan! Cell doesn't want you, so you two aren't going to fight him."

" _I_ sure as hell am." Eighteen said, stepping forward and raising her gun. "That bastard killed my brothers. He's going to pay for what he did."

Goku gave Eighteen a curt nod. "Fine. Krillin, can you take Gohan?"

"Yeah sure, but," Krillin frowned dubiously, looking around, "take him _where_ , Goku?"

"There's a Namekian village, not too far from here."

Gohan gasped. Piccolo. He could find Piccolo again, and possibly his wayward uncle. If he could get to that village, he would know that Piccolo was all right.

Krillin scratched his head. "You think _Namekians_ are going to welcome us into their tribe? Goku-"

"Goku?" The deep, unexpected voice from the distance had everyone tensing and those facing away from it spinning on their heels to look for the source of the voice.

Standing with two guns loaded and trained on the group conversing around two loaded horses, Cell smirked at the surprised expressions on their faces. "That's a funny name. _Certainly_ much different from Kakarot. But I suppose I like it."

"Cell!" Eighteen growled, raising her gun and instantly firing at the other gunman on sight.

"Eighteen!" Krillin yelled, throwing his hand out to push Eighteen's gun down as her bullet ricocheted off a tree and nearly swept past them.

"Krillin," Eighteen spat through clenched teeth, "this sucker is mine!"

"Get out of here, Krillin!" Goku exclaimed. "Take Gohan with you!"

"But Dad!"

Goku turned a fierce glare on his stubborn child. "Get _going_ , Gohan!"

Krillin startled, the hurried pace of events finally catching up with him all at once as he tossed his canteen aside. Then he clenched his fists, before running over to the shocked little boy staring at his uncharacteristically scary father. "C'mon, Gohan!"

Gohan grunted in surprise when Krillin reached him, tugging him firmly by the hand towards Kinto'un. The devious chuckle of the bounty hunter in the background as they ran for the horse only made matters worse. That man was going to kill his father if he just ran away from this like a coward. He knew it!

"Dad!"

"Gohan, they'll be fine." Krillin grumbled as he took a worried glance at Eighteen's beautiful, determined face. "We need to get out of the way, or we'll just put them in _more_ danger. Your dad knows how to win in a gunfight."

Cell laughed, his laughter building from a low rumble into something that echoed through the sparse wilderness. "So you two are prepared to turn yourselves in?"

Eighteen exchanged a glance with Goku before turning a glare on the arrogant gunman. She would never give herself up to the man who killed her brothers, the same man who intended to put her in jail. Sure, she'd done a lot of wrong, and now, after spending time with Krillin, maybe she could see the error of her ways. But the last thing she was going to do was give that overconfident oaf the satisfaction of being the one responsible for making her pay her debt to society.

With a scoff, Eighteen tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Hardly."

"Good." Cell smirked and aimed his gun for Eighteen. "I was hoping for that. Once I finally take _you_ out, I can face a real challenge. I've always wanted to have a shootout with Kakarot, or _Goku_ as he's now called. The Saiyan has quite the reputation among bounty hunter circles."

With his eyes locked on Cell, as the beat of Kinto'un's hooves pounded off into the distance with Gohan's yells of ire fading from them, Goku took a settling breath. It was a relief to know Gohan and Krillin were safe from the bounty hunter, but now he only hoped those two on their own could survive every _other_ enemy out there. Crazily enough, he actually hoped Piccolo would find Gohan again.

"If you want to fight me, Cell," Goku yelled, once he determined the coast was clear, "then fight _me_! Leave her out of it."

"Relax, Goku," Cell closed his eye, focusing intently on his lovely lady target from the long distance range, "this will only take a second."


	13. Guns Down

A/N: Wow. This is probably the longest single chapter I've ever posted (over 10,000 words). I don't know how it got so long, but I really want both parts in this chapter, so I'll just give you the forewarning that this one is long.

* * *

The booming sound of the gunshot ripped through the warm air as Cell unclenched his trigger. Goku was already jumping over a fallen log towards Eighteen, hoping to get to her before the bullet tore through the air - _and_ through her. He didn't know Eighteen well, didn't have any particular feelings invested in her, but he could see that Krillin did. Judging by the way his friend got all red in the face every time she was mentioned, and was willing to leave West City to protect her, there had to be something there. That (and the fact that Goku couldn't just stand aside and watch a woman die) contributed to his reckless decision to jump and push her out of the way of the bullet. However, he wasn't fast enough.

"Ahh!" Eighteen was flung back by the impact of the bullet into the rough bark of a wide tree. Immediately, she clutched her abdomen and struggled to stay on her feet as a searing pain tore through her and warm moisture coated her clutching hand and aching hip.

She hadn't even seen it coming before Goku Son lunged at her. That Cell was too damn fast. And now...and now...she lurched at an overwhelmingly sharp and burning sensation in her side, the crippling pain bringing her to her knees. Outstretching her bloody, shaking hand in front of her, Eighteen quickly put it back, applying as much pressure as she could manage to slow the bleeding, even as she felt her strength draining from her. Heaving at the disgusting sensation of the slightest movements tearing her insides, Eighteen ignored the victorious chuckle from that insane monster drawing near. She didn't care if he came now. She did what she could to avenge her brothers. She was just sorry that she missed and that bastard didn't.

"Cell!"

Goku's irate call didn't alarm Cell, at least not at first. Wanting to finish the job, Cell stalked towards Eighteen falling on her hands and knees with her bloody hand sticking to the debris of leaves and twigs painted crimson with her blood.

"Cell!"

But when Goku called again, Cell realized Goku wasn't going to let this go. The Saiyan was too eager for his fight. Cell turned from the bleeding woman making guttural noises, clutching her side and clenching her teeth, to face the other outlaw a few feet away with his hand ready at his hip.

"All right, Goku. You want to give it a try?"

Goku watched as Cell smirked and stretched his hands in an inviting gesture, even though his pistol laid ready in one of his outstretched palms. Narrowing his eyes at Cell's fingers curled lightly around the gun, Goku realized he couldn't fall for the ruse. Cell wasn't letting down his guard. Cocky gunman or not, he wasn't dumb.

"Ready?"

In an instantaneous movement, Goku drew his gun and fired, proving his speed and impeccable aim by shooting the black hat right off Cell's head. Cell gasped and flinched as the noise ricocheted off the surrounding thin trees of their clearing, before the hat tumbled away with a gust of wind.

"Hm," Cell laughed, "I can see why you have a reputation."

"I see why _you're_ so successful, too. Why don't we make this more interesting, if you really want to take me in?"

Cell narrowed his eyes at the smirk crossing Goku's face. When Goku slowly raised his gun above his head, loosening his grip to only support it between two fingers, Cell raised a brow. Goku was either crazy, or up to something. And Cell was never one to be too trusting.

"What are you doing?"

"We're _both_ going to end up with holes in us if we draw guns. You know it, and I know it."

"So what do you propose we do?"

Keeping his eyes trained on Cell's, Goku slowly bent forward, lowering his gun towards the ground. Once he saw a look of understanding in Cell's eyes, Goku tossed the gun to the leaf-littered soil and raised his fists. Just feeling the clenching of his fists and seeing an opponent standing before him with a confident smile made a smile stretch across Goku's face. This got his blood boiling. It had been a long time since he threw down his gun in a fight.

"If you can beat me," Goku said, "I'll let you take me in."

"Really?" Cell frowned. "How do I know you won't resist or try to escape later when you lose?"

"I stick to my promises. And I won't lose."

Cell rubbed his chin, his gun still clutched by his side in his other hand. Goku was a cocky bastard, but Cell supposed _he_ was as well. He was more than confident that he could take Goku in a fight, in spite of how confident Goku was.

When Cell tossed his gun, it landed with a pair of thuds as it skipped across the dirt-covered ground. Not far from where it landed, in his peripheral vision Goku noticed Eighteen slouched with her back against that wide tree, still clutching her side with her eyes scrunched closed. She wasn't in good shape. Goku didn't know how much time she had, but he knew she needed help - help he couldn't offer right now, because Cell was assuming a stance, getting ready to fight.

"All right," Cell rubbed a finger under his nose and pressed his shoulders back, "come at me, Goku."

Goku narrowed his eyes. "You first."

"My pleasure."

As Cell lunged forward with his fists raised, Goku adjusted his stance, preparing to counter his first attack. While he was adjusting his feet, Cell's fist was already flying towards his face. Grimacing, Goku raised his hand, catching the powerful blow that would've landed in his face if he was a second slower.

"Good!" Cell punched again, keeping Goku on his toes as Goku was forced to once again narrowly dodge Cell's attack. "This is more interesting than I thought it would be!"

"Dammit!" Goku spun around a protruding large rock, letting Cell fall forward as he just barely missed striking an elbow into Goku's side.

Before Goku could regain his footing, Cell was already turned around, his fist flying directly for Goku's exposed cheekbone.

"Ah!" Goku screamed at the shattering impact, while Cell pulled his fist back and laughed.

Yes, this was one of Cell's best hunts yet. When he returned from West City with this collection of bounties, the so-called best of the best bounty hunters back home would look mediocre in comparison to his infallibility. With all the Geros finished and Kakarot a.k.a. Goku taken behind bars, Cell would accomplish what nobody else in his line of work thought possible.

When he shifted in preparation to knock Goku out, Cell widened his eyes in shock. Goku recovered from that hit faster than he expected, and was coming at him with his teeth bared and fist flashing forward rapidly.

"Wha-?" Cell's teeth snapped together at the brunt impact of Goku's fist with his chin.

Now he was angry. Goku shouldn't have been able to fight back anymore. Cell was winning and _far_ too superior for Goku to have a real chance. He needed to stop playing with Goku and show that Saiyan who was fighting a losing battle.

Goku panted and wiped a moist trail of blood from his nose as he watched Cell stumble back and then right himself with an intense glare.

"Guess," Goku chuckled to himself, "he's angry now."

"You're going to regret that."

As Cell spit, splattering the ground beneath his feet with red, Goku clenched his fists more tightly and grounded his pointed boots into the dirt. He knew Cell had no intentions of letting Goku leave his side alive. If this ended Cell's way, Goku would either be dead or tagging along with Cell to another jail cell. Goku had no intention of letting that happen.

"Aagh!" Cell screamed.

Cell lashed out at Goku with a flurry of punches. Cell's attacks were so fast and powerful that he was able to push Goku back. But Goku countered again, further aggravating the bounty hunter as they traded blows. This carried on in an elaborate dance of blow after dodge after reciprocated blow, until Goku was able to parry behind Cell, grabbing his rawhide-covered arm and wrenching it behind his back.

As his arm was twisted in an agonizingly contorted position, Cell threw his head back and screamed. He was about to lose. He couldn't lose. That would be unacceptable. No one had ever beaten or escaped him.

"Give up, Cell!"

Clenching his teeth and groaning at the wrenching of his shoulder and elbow as Goku tightened his hold, Cell darted his eyes desperately around the clearing, the scraggy pine trees, the scattered rocks and fallen logs, and even the woman nearby. He needed to find an advantage. When his eyes lit on something shining and metallic seated near a rock by his boot, Cell smirked in spite of the pain. In one decisive move, Cell jerked his head back into Goku's face and then dove for the ground the moment he was released by his screaming opponent. With his hand landing on the unfamiliar, cold handle of Goku's discarded gun, Cell chuckled to himself. He wasn't about to let an inferior Saiyan defeat him.

* * *

Their trek from the scene of that fight had been slow-going and hesitant, in spite of Krillin's initial desperation to get away from there. He was trying to tell himself to speed up, but he was pretty sure he was doing the opposite. He had slowed the instant he was overwhelmed with a bad feeling. A feeling like Eighteen was in trouble. Now, he could almost swear even _Goku_ might be in trouble, though he'd never seen Goku in a situation he couldn't get out of before.

"Krillin," Gohan cocked his head and drew his slow-trotting horse to a stop, "something's not right. We shouldn't have left."

"Gohan..."

While Krillin's objection lingered, Gohan scowled. He knew it was wrong to leave his father and Miss Gero like that, especially knowing everything Gohan knew now, and with Krillin being the sheriff. After he teetered on the horse turning in the direction from whence they'd come, Gohan steadied himself and once again turned his gaze to Krillin.

"It's your job to protect the people of West City, isn't it? I'm going back." Without hesitation, Gohan whipped his reins, sending his horse full speed towards the dangerous confrontation.

"Gohan!" Krillin grimaced as he watched the young boy ride away. "Ugh!"

Clenching his teeth, Krillin dug his spurs into his horse, urging it to chase after Gohan's as fast as possible. He couldn't let Goku's only son run head-on into danger alone. He couldn't believe what a coward he was being, letting the kid take the lead like that either. And he couldn't stay away from there, not when he could feel that something wasn't right just as much as Gohan felt it.

As they rode over crackling twigs of the forest floor, past scraggly pine trees and fallen, dried logs, towards the sounds of screaming, yelling, and brunt impacts, Gohan clung to Kinto'un's neck tighter, bearing down as if he could _will_ the horse to run faster. But as the sounds became louder, and even the rustling of leaves beneath moving boots became audible, he knew he had to make Kinto'un slow down. There was no telling what they were heading into.

Krillin raised his hand in a halting gesture to Gohan before he jumped from his horse as lightly as possible. "Shh."

Gohan nodded. Then he followed suit, making even lighter and faster work of his smaller feet as he hit the forest floor and caught himself on his hands on the prickly pine needles and twigs of the forest floor before hurrying towards the alarming sounds. What was briefly reassuring was Cell's voice crying out in agony. Maybe the situation wasn't as bad as he had feared.

"Eighteen!" Krillin breathed out her name, causing Gohan to flinch by his side and search the area.

Krillin pulled his gun and grit his teeth as tears welled in his eyes at the sight of the beauty laid bleeding against a large tree. Eighteen was unconscious, pale, and nearly lifeless. He had to assume the _nearly_ part, because he refused to believe she was dead. After all they'd been through so far, she couldn't be dead now.

Not knowing what he planned to do with his gun, Krillin stumbled back at the scream reminding him of the temporarily forgotten sounds surrounding him - the sounds of struggle from two very powerful people wrestling in a life or death struggle to his other side.

"Give up, Cell!"

Goku's voice made Krillin gasp and loosen his grip on his gun as he turned his head to see his friend holding the bounty hunter in an armlock. As Krillin's eyes bulged, he heard Gohan let out a strangled cry and scurry towards his side. They were barely concealed by the sparse grouping of pine trees between them and the fighters, but they both remained unnoticed, as the fighters were facing the clearing to their left and too focused on their fight to detect their voyeurs.

Gohan's dad had the upper hand with the bounty hunter held in solid restraint, yet Gohan glimpsed a look in that monster's eyes - a spark of mischief that made him fear this wasn't over yet. Gohan tore the gun from Krillin's hand, his heart pounding in his chest as he circled around the nearest narrow tree, trying to get a better view of the entanglement without being sighted.

When Cell made a sudden, backwards thrust of his head, Goku's cry of pain sent a shiver up Krillin's spine. He clenched his fingers, realizing belatedly that his gun had slipped from his hand at some point. When he looked ahead and noticed Gohan stalking towards the fight with a gun in hand while Cell and Goku both dropped to the ground in the distance, Krillin's eyes bulged. His best friend needed him. Eighteen needed him. Gohan needed him. But he didn't know what he could do. He felt so damn helpless!

Cell's low chuckle made Gohan's stomach lurch as he watched the bounty hunter rise up from the ground with something in his hand. With a rush of adrenaline, Gohan braced both his hands around Krillin's gun and tried to point it at Cell.

Piccolo had told Gohan what a heartless killer the bounty hunter was by Mr. Shinhan's account, killing almost all the Geros and terrorizing West City like everyone there was nothing to him. _That_ man was now chuckling, standing over Gohan's kneeling, beaten and bloodied father with a gun in his hand.

"No, Goku." Cell chuckled loudly. " _You_ give up."

At Cell's laughter, Goku snapped his gaze up to see a gun pointed in his face. Goku blinked rapidly, trying to understand how he'd nearly won that fight only a moment ago and now his life was hanging in a delicate balance. But as his eyes went out of focus while he processed a deluge of confounding thoughts, the diminutive silhouette darting behind a tree to his right caught his eye. A staggered breath fell from his lips at the shocking, yet welcome sight of his young son pointing a gun at his potential murderer.

When his eyes flickered back to Cell's cocky smile, Goku smiled back. "Fine, Cell. I give up."

Cell balked. "What?"

"I give up." Goku stood and braced his hands behind his brown hat. "You win."

Clinging to his nearest tree, Krillin hissed across the gap to Gohan, "Gohan, shoot 'im!"

"Krillin," Gohan glanced over his shoulder, his stiff arms remaining trained on the gunman, "I-I don't know how."

"Just pull the trigger, Gohan. If you don't," Krillin grimaced, watching Cell's eyes narrow as he took a step towards Goku, "your dad's going to die. You see what Cell did to Eighteen. We can't trust him to just take Goku in."

Gohan shook his head, clenching his eyes shut. "What if I kill him?"

Krillin frowned, knitting his brows as Goku looked their way. He could see that Goku was patiently waiting for Gohan to shoot Cell, and if Goku thought the boy was capable, Gohan had to be ready. Krillin had his doubts about encouraging a young boy to kill a man, but in Cell's case, targets like Eighteen and Goku would never be safe with him around.

"You might have to do just that. I don't think he'll stop as long as he's alive."

Goku took a deep breath as he watched his friend and his son. Krillin had to be talking Gohan through this. It was a lot for Gohan, but Goku knew he could do it. It wasn't like he hadn't taken the boy out for casual target practice. It was just a matter of committing to pulling that trigger. When Cell gave Goku a shove, Goku's gaze was torn from Gohan and Krillin lurking in the distant trees. Without ever lowering his gun, Cell led Goku in the direction of the trees from which he'd ambushed the group.

"C'mon then, Goku." Cell said. "You're going to jail and I'm going to fetch a pretty penny for you."

Gohan seethed internally as he watched his father shoved away from him at gunpoint. He couldn't stand by and watch his dad get taken to jail. His mom needed them both. Gohan couldn't be there for her alone without his dad. Gritting his teeth, Gohan raised the gun in trembling fingers, knit his brows together and took aim.

Goku glanced beside them as he walked, glaring at the sight of Eighteen when he realized Cell intended to leave her there dying. "What about Eighteen? How are you going to collect your bounty without the body?"

"Goku," Krillin hissed to himself, his eyes locking on Eighteen, "what are you _doing_? He's going to finish her."

"Cell!"

Cell shifted towards Eighteen with a considerate tilt of his head, almost thinking it had to be her calling. But when he saw that she was out cold and realized the voice was off, he turned around to face the boy pointing a gun at him. His look of bemusement faltered to a moment of fear before a blast rattled everyone standing in that wilderness, even the young boy who pulled the trigger. Cell's subsequent scream of pain drowned out the surrounding gasps as Cell dropped to the ground with arms flailing and blood flying from his gut. His abdomen was burning and tearing, the pain only worsening when he hit the ground face-first with a brunt impact.

"Dad!" Gohan moved to run to his father.

That voice. That voice again made Cell snap his gaze up from the ground to glare at the child daring to run towards him. The boy stopped short with eyes wide and mouth gaping when Cell clutched his gun and grunted in an effort to right himself.

"Gohan!" Goku extended his hand towards his vulnerable son, before his eyes darted to Cell, "stay back!"

"Dammit!" Cell's cry rang through the trees as he rose to his feet and pointed his gun at Gohan. "That little runt actually shot me! Where did you come from?"

"Gohan!"

As Krillin cried out from behind his tree, Gohan trembled and stared at Cell's murderous expression as the villain stepped forward.

"Gohan!" Goku yelled. "Shoot him!"

He knew Cell was willing to kill anyone who stood in his way, and now his son had inadvertently put himself on Cell's hit list. There was no way he could stand there and watch his son die. Frantically, Goku searched the ground for Cell's or Eighteen's guns, which couldn't have gone far, but all he could spy were brown, dry leaves, clusters of green grass, and uneven terrain of light brown dirt. No traces or hints of silver, black, or shiny brown could be seen.

Forgetting the gun, Goku snapped his gaze to Gohan. "Shoot him now, Gohan!"

"I-I can't! It'll kill him."

"Yes, you can!" Goku growled in frustration as Cell raised his gun towards his son. "Gohan, forget everything I said about not killing. Shoot now!"

Goku knew Gohan was holding back, overthinking this somehow. From what he'd seen Gohan accomplish in the past few days, he knew even at his young age, his son could do what had to be done. He just needed to let go. Goku only worried he might wait until it was too late. When Cell clenched an eye shut and took aim at Gohan, Goku's heart wrenched.

"Gohan," Krillin cried, "please!"

Baring his teeth, Gohan felt tears welling in his eyes as he listened to Krillin's plea and saw the desperation in his father's wide-eyed gaze. With his bottom lip trembling, Gohan couldn't help noticing Eighteen to his side, collapsed against a tree, bleeding and unconscious. It wasn't fair, what Cell had done to Eighteen and her family. This man was a horrible person, and if Gohan had to shoot him to keep others from ending up like the Geros - to keep Krillin, himself and his father from ending up like them - then he had no choice.

"Please, Cell," Gohan choked out, "don't make me do this."

"You're the one who marred my perfect record, Boy. Don't think I'll let that go."

As the click of Cell cocking the hammer sounded, Krillin grit his teeth and pressed his forehead against the rough bark of the tree trunk wrapped in his solid grip. He couldn't watch an innocent boy be blown away. He couldn't stomach it, the cruelty or the gruesomeness of the monstrous action. When the gunshots sounded, one right after the other, Krillin nearly retched right there behind the tree. When he turned his gaze past the tree, he gasped.

Goku tried to catch his breath, a smile spreading across his face as he watched Cell fall to the ground in a gurgling, bloody mess. Gohan's shoulder coated in red and his cry of pain didn't even alarm Goku, not when his son was still on both feet and Cell was the one losing consciousness. Gohan's bullet nailed him right in the chest. It was amazing that his son's shooting was so accurate. But Gohan was always a fast learner.

"Gohan." As Goku limped towards his son with a proud smile on his face, his smile gradually fell while taking in the distraught expression on Gohan's face. "It's over, Gohan. You did it."

With his eyes locked on the man laying with a hole in his chest a few yards away, Gohan didn't even hear his father's words. He could see him coming closer from the corner of his eye, looking battered and torn, but his ears only registered a high-pitched tone as his mind replayed Cell falling to the ground. He couldn't even process the pain in his shoulder, though he knew he was hit. In comparison to the shock he was feeling over what he'd just done, his physical injury was nothing.

Finally, Gohan stepped forward and met his father's gaze. "D-Dad?"

As soon as he reached his son, Goku fell to his knees, having used all the strength he had left to make it to Gohan. That fight with Cell had been brutal, and now, he had his son to thank for his life. Wrapping his arms tightly around the boy who clearly needed it, Goku breathed into Gohan's black hair, inhaling the perfect mixture of dirt, grass and skin that only his child possessed. Even with his son's familiar scent tainted with that of metallic blood, Goku found relief from it.

He tightened his grip, being careful around Gohan's injured shoulder and his own aching bruises and tender bones. "I'm proud of you, Gohan."

Krillin's frown briefly lifted into a smile as his eyes darted from Cell's fallen body to Goku and Gohan. But when, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Eighteen looking just as lifeless as Cell, he gasped. Now that the danger was past, he could go to Eighteen's side. Running with watering eyes, he recalled how he had promised to help her. This was exactly what he feared, and as he fell to his knees by her side, he silently prayed that she was still alive.

"Eighteen!" Krillin grabbed her hand, hoping she would grasp his in return. "Eighteen, no!"

He shook his head, fighting back tears as her soft hand remained loose and open in his grasp. Krillin squeezed Eighteen's hand harder, pushing for a response as his eyes fell on the blood-stained location of her open wound at her side. He couldn't pinpoint the bullet hole through her open vest. Gingerly, Krillin pulled back the gray fabric, trying to get a look at the injury without doing anything that might seem inappropriate or upsetting to Eighteen if she were conscious. When he peeled back her white shirt, Krillin grimaced, raising his eyes to her face and half-expecting her to slap him. But with a few shallow breaths, he narrowed his eyes at her creamy skin, finding the gaping wound before tearing some material from his sleeve.

"Sheriff Krillin," Gohan released his hug and shifted, "how is she?"

Krillin inhaled a deep breath and proceeded to wrap the tan fabric tightly around Eighteen's midsection. "Not good."

She wasn't good, that was true. Goku could see the worry in his friend's face. Somewhere along the line, Krillin had fallen for Eighteen. Goku could see that clearly now. Eighteen was on the brink of death, but she was still alive. Goku could see her chest rising and falling just enough to confirm it, but he didn't know for how much longer she'd be breathing if she didn't get help as soon as possible.

"What can we do?" Gohan asked.

Krillin's eyes lifted from his makeshift wrap around Eighteen's waist to the boy looking expectantly at him. He didn't know what they could do out there. They had to get Eighteen somewhere where someone could help.

"We need," Goku coughed, wincing in pain as he clutched his battered ribcage, "we need to get help, Gohan. Krillin, West City is too far. Eighteen won't make it."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"The Namekians." Goku frowned decisively. "They have healers, and their village shouldn't be far from here."

Knitting his brows with worry, Gohan propped his shoulder under his father's, trying to support the grown man in spite of his own throbbing injury. They were in bad shape, and it wasn't only Eighteen that needed help. His father would need to be tended to as well. So would his shoulder, though he wasn't in nearly as bad as his father's or Eighteen's condition.

"Then let's go." Krillin scooped his arms beneath Eighteen, lifting her from the ground as he stood to his feet.

He didn't know much about the Namekians, or if they could be trusted. But Goku and Gohan seemed to trust them, and he didn't have much choice. He wouldn't stand by and let Eighteen die. He just had to pray that the Namekians wouldn't want to kill them, or refuse to help them when they got there.

Goku groaned, leaning on his son as he stumbled towards the horse. "I'm gonna need you to take the reins, Gohan."

"Okay." Gohan huffed with exertion. "Don't worry, Dad. The Namekians can heal you, too. I know they can."

Goku smiled and tried to speak when they reached Kinto'un, but instead all of his energy went to grabbing the saddle and climbing on his horse. Every muscle in his body ached, more than it had while he was fighting Cell. He could feel every point of impact where Cell hit him, throbbing and aching and draining the energy from him as he pulled himself up.

Rather than sitting upright on the saddle, Goku laid across it face-down, enjoying the stink of his beautiful tan horse rather than the fresh air of the wilderness. He couldn't bring himself to correct that, though. He was too damn tired after that fight. The disruptive movements of Gohan climbing on Kinto'un shook Goku in his saddle as he closed his eyes. This was going to be a bumpy ride, but oh well.

Gohan grabbed the reins, turning his gaze to see Krillin sitting on his horse, setting Eighteen softly across his lap. Krillin met his gaze with his jaw set. Gohan knew Krillin was just as resolute to help Eighteen as he was to help his father.

As he registered the look in Gohan's eyes, Krillin's lip pulled into a brief smile. "Let's move, Gohan. That Namekian village can't be far."

In spite of his bravado, Krillin was just as scared about meeting the Namekians as Gohan had to be. But they had to find them, and they had to do it quickly - not just for Eighteen's sake, but for the sake of all the people back in West City who would be waiting for their Sheriff, and for Goku's help. Whatever was happening back there, Goku and Gohan made it sound more frightening than what was happening out here, which was hard to believe.

* * *

The West City Saloon had seen a slow-down of business ever since Lord Frieza's saloon opened. It wasn't that their patrons were taking their business elsewhere. The new saloon was an unwelcoming place for the locals. Frieza's Frontier Saloon did most of its business with his people and the brave prostitutes who frequented the place for business. But as Roshi looked around the West City Saloon from his vantage point behind the bar, he could see by the worrisome faces, the empty tables and the hurried people passing outside on the street that Tien's saloon was changing for the worse.

"Mr. Roshi," Chiaotzu's voice sounded from the vicinity of his knee, "you think it's about time I let Tien know-"

"He's already on his way over, Chiaotzu."

Chiaotzu blinked, surprised by the decisive statement from the old man, but he had no chance to respond with question or comment. The creak of the saloon doors swinging open, followed by the rattling of their banging together made Chiaotzu tilt his chin that direction. To suit his curiosity, he had to walk towards the end of the high bar, where he could see around and take a look at the incoming patrons. Yet, as soon as he had a visual of the two people walking in, he was sorry he hadn't just stayed behind the bar.

Heel spurs rattled as their boots thumped slowly across the wooden planks at the entrance of the West City Saloon. The little place was nothing compared to the amazing saloon they'd just set up across the street, but Zarbon agreed with Mr. Dodoria that it was appropriate to show Lord Frieza around town and properly acquaint him with what the competition had to offer.

As Zarbon and Dodoria walked in, Tien entered the saloon from the rear entrance, scowling as soon as he saw who was entering his establishment. When they stepped forward to reveal a third, smaller figure standing behind them, Tien growled low in his throat. That criminal had a lot of nerve stepping into his bar. But Tien wasn't running the place anymore. Roshi was. And Tien had a meeting to attend to right now.

With eyes locked on Tien, Launch left her post leaning against the wall to choose a table with both a good view of the bar _and_ the double doors at the entrance. She sat in the wooden chair, leaning back against the slotted, rounded back as she tapped a pack of cigarettes lightly on the table. Exposing her teeth for a moment, she tsked at the domineering gang at the entrance - no good, low life cocksuckers who hid behind their guns and beat helpless women. Then her eyes darted to Tien before she licked her upper lip with a seductive smile.

His eyes never leaving Frieza and his men, Tien slid into the empty chair at Launch's table. "Launch, we're gonna have to make this quick. I don't know what the hell is going on with those three here."

Launch followed Tien's gaze, watching as Zarbon, Dodoria and Frieza sauntered towards the bar as if they owned the saloon and everyone in it. "I might know more about that than you, Handsome."

Taking a deep breath, Launch tapped a cigarette loose from her case, placing it between her fingers and bringing it to her lips as Tien sought a match in his pocket. She didn't even look his way, didn't even flinch at the bright flame before her eyes as she kept a sidelong gaze fixed on the gang making themselves comfortable at the stools at the bar. She inhaled deeply as soon as she smelled the lit cigarette, feeling her lungs burn as she watched the old man warily pouring those three assholes a drink.

"What happened with Cell?" Tien asked. "Is he gone for good?"

Launch shrugged. "All I can tell you about _him_ is that he ain't been seen, and Hasky mysteriously disappeared that night he met with her, and ain't come back to the bawdry house since. Nobody's heard from her, and I'd bet my garters that prick is to blame."

Tien clenched his jaw, his focus more directed towards the soundless conversation between Mr. Roshi, Chiaotzu, Frieza, Zarbon and Dodoria which he was futilely trying to lip-read. Yet, he did register what Launch said, and with a sigh, he shook his head.

As smoke billowed from Launch's lips into his face, Tien scrunched his nose. "So Cell's no longer our problem, I'll assume."

"Hell no." Launch waved her cigarette in the direction of the bar. "You've got much bigger problems right in front of your face, Tien. This guy ain't just settling for Frieza's Frontier Saloon being the biggest name in this town. He's aiming to buy y'all out."

"What?"

Launch rolled her eyes and waved her cigarette again, while feeling with her free hand the gun holstered to her thigh below her knee-length dress. She didn't feel safe going anywhere in town without it now. Besides, she couldn't look at Tien while admitting this, though she knew she had to admit her source in order to convince him of the information he needed to know.

"Zarbon let somethin' slip," Launch sighed, "about Lord Frieza thinkin' he's gonna run Champ's soon."

"Oh." Tien frowned.

He turned away when Launch looked at him with those beautiful, big eyes. He couldn't look into them, not when Launch talked so flippantly about her business. In spite of what Launch had to do to get that information, it was important for Tien to know. He was the one who'd put her up to it after all. She deserved the respect of being looked in the eyes for what she was willing to do for the town - for him. Tien sighed at the immediate softening of her gaze when her eyes locked on his.

"You know, Launch," he smiled, "you could always try making an honest living. You-"

"Ahhh!"

The yell from across the saloon made Launch gasp and whirl her head in the direction of the bar. Sure enough, she could see that Frieza and his gang were causing trouble.

Tien bit his lip when he saw the way Mr. Roshi scowled at Mr. Dodoria, while between them, a jagged dagger was planted firmly in his wooden bartop. It had to be placed there for some sort of demonstration purpose, because no one looked hurt, but they sure as hell looked offended.

Yanking his dagger from the wood, Dodoria chuckled at the priceless looks on their faces. The little one was trembling, while the old man was scowling deeply but wisely keeping his mouth shut. Meanwhile, the gasps and hush of quiet surrounding them told Dodoria that they'd caught the attention of all the patrons in the saloon.

Zarbon flashed his teeth at the old man before thrusting his empty shot glass forward. "Now pour me another."

"Like I told your friend," Roshi said through clenched teeth, "he owes two bits from the last time he was here. So do you."

"Now," Frieza chided, "is that any way to speak to your customers, Mr. Roshi? I certainly treat my patrons with more respect than this."

Roshi grit his teeth, fighting back a growl as he met eyes with the smug man. Frieza clearly had no intentions of being _kind_ here. He was playing at something, and whatever this display was from his men, it was only the beginning of a problem.

"No disrespect is intended, Lord Frieza." Roshi struggled to say the words with a smile. "But this is a business. We don't make any money by giving out free drinks to our competitors."

Frieza laughed - a trill, smug giggle - before his men joined in with quiet chuckles. "I should hope not. You have a sense of humor, Mr. Roshi. I can appreciate that. But we are on friendly terms here, are we not?"

Frieza's eyes darted to the little man to his side, then back to Roshi's. He knew neither of them owned the saloon, yet somehow _they_ had ended up as the best choice to run the place while its owner was playing sheriff. West City Saloon would be _his_ , as all places worth anything eventually were. It was only a matter of finding the owner's weakness. That man was right over there, watching them with that whore Zarbon favored.

"Now, being on friendly terms," Frieza stretched his lips into a sly smile, "I would repay the favor when any of your men might return to _my_ establishment. Where is the show of trust?"

"I'm sorry," Roshi shook his head, "but none of my workers here will be frequenting your establishment."

Frieza huffed in amusement, leaning back in his chair. The barstool was uncomfortable, the cushion worn flat from overuse and the legs uneven and rocking as his weight shifted. This place was far inferior to his many businesses across the West. And yet, the locals continued coming here, and never bothered to enter his fine saloon. That was going to have to change.

Frieza scanned the place, turning in his chair to get a view of the rest of his surroundings. A young, dark-haired woman sat with a large man at one table, while the temporary sheriff and owner of the saloon looked intense as he sat with the guarded blonde whore at another table, and one little man was passed out drunk with his head resting in his forearms at another table. It really was a pathetic scene. This town didn't know how to have a good time. He could show them.

Frieza turned a glare on the elderly fool behind the bar. "That's rather unneighborly of you. It seems West City could use some revamping. It's a good thing I came along."

"Please," Roshi sighed, "just leave."

His feelings about this encounter were worsening. Something was about to happen - something from which someone wouldn't be able to come back. With a wary grimace, he looked around the saloon at all the innocent patrons -Ox King and his overmedicated daughter, Tien and Launch, and Oolong knocked out from one too many at the distant table. Roshi knew that Tien's gun was still propped there beneath the bar, but it was out of arm's reach. If anything went awry, Roshi didn't think he'd be able to get to it fast enough.

As soon as Launch saw that the intruders weren't listening to the old man, she threw down her cigarette, snuffed it with the bottom of her boot, and stood to march toward the intrusive trio. They were disrespecting the old man who Tien left in charge of his saloon - which meant they were disrespecting the saloon, and by disrespecting Tien's successor and Tien's place, they were disrespecting _Tien_. Launch wasn't going to stand for that.

Zarbon chuckled as he dug his hand into the metal bowl full of peanuts atop the bar. He narrowed his eyes at the little man by his side as he fed the peanuts into his mouth, crossed his arms and chewed he salty snack while making himself comfortable in his seat.

"Lord Frieza," Chiaotzu scowled at Zarbon, then looked to Frieza, "we asked you nicely to leave."

"Chiaotzu!" Tien hissed his friend's name under his breath while lurching to his feet.

His longtime friend and worker was putting his foot down, but choosing the wrong time to do it. Chiaotzu's eyes darted to Tien when he stood, but only for a moment. In that brief moment of eye contact, Tien could see what Chiaotzu was thinking, and it made his blood run cold. Chiaotzu was practically telling him that it was okay, whatever might happen. Tien's friend thought he knew what he was doing, but Chiaotzu couldn't be more wrong. The saloon wasn't _that_ important to defend. When Chiaotzu's stern glare turned back on Frieza, Tien stumbled out of his seat, but no amount of speed could've helped Chiaotzu.

The ear-shattering explosion bounced off the walls of the saloon, causing everyone to either freeze, gasp, or scream. While most people threw themselves to the ground in protective crouches, Tien ran towards the gunshot, but he wasn't the only one. Already ahead of him, Launch was furiously storming towards the competing saloon owner lowering his smoking gun.

Frieza holstered his gun and sneered. "So I'll ask _you_ nicely not to disrupt my drinking with my associates again."

Roshi stumbled until his back hit the wall lined with rattling shelves of drink. His friend, his coworker, standing only feet away, was covered in blood. The cruel men who had the audacity to continue drinking at the bar, even as Chiaotzu fell to the ground with a thud, were either amused or indifferent to the turn of events.

"Chiaotzu!" Launch's cry came out in a furious growl as she flung herself towards Frieza while snaking a hand beneath the hem of her dress.

"Launch, no!" Tien cried.

Tien felt helpless. He felt more pain than he'd ever felt, catching a glimpse of Chiaotzu's vacant eyes while worrying what might now happen to Launch. He couldn't bear to lose her, too. Losing Chiaotzu was almost too much to bear, but the truth was undeniable. With a shot at that close range, Chiaotzu was dead the moment Frieza heartlessly pulled the trigger. And Launch wasn't heeding Tien's cry.

Launch yanked her hand from beneath her dress with a pistol in her grasp. "You son a bitch!"

She thrust the weapon towards Frieza's face just as Zarbon rushed in front of Frieza. Zarbon's nose crunched on impact when Launch's pistol busted against his face rather than her intended target.

"Stand down, woman!" Dodoria yelled, drawing his gun.

Zarbon scoffed, wiping the back of his hand against his bleeding nose before he glared at Launch. "You bitch! How dare you break my beautiful nose!"

"How dare you kill Chiaotzu," Launch snarled at Frieza, "you fucking asshole!"

When Launch came at Frieza again, Dodoria effortlessly shot Launch with another heart-stopping gunshot. Tien felt every muscle in his body freeze as he watched Launch's face as if in slow motion, seeing her eyes widen in shock before they darted towards him and then clenched shut with her agonized scream.

"Launch!" Tien thrust himself forward as she fell, but a pair of wiry, strong arms firmly stopped him.

"Tien!"

While grabbing a napkin to dab a stray drop of liquor from his lip, Frieza chuckled at the old man holding back the appointed sheriff. "Well, the imp did ask us to leave nicely. The least we can do is honor his last request, I suppose."

As Frieza stood to leave, Launch coughed from her fetal position on the ground. She was shot, and she was hurting, but she was also furious. She couldn't let these bastards get away with this!

At the sound of Launch's furious growls muddled by groans of pain, Zarbon sneered down at her prone form. He couldn't stand the people in this town. Even the whores were annoying.

Giving a disdainful sniff, Zarbon crossed his arms. "I'd put you out of your misery, whore, but unlike my associate here, I'm too much of a gentleman to harm a woman in a public place like this."

When Zarbon followed Lord Frieza towards the door and Dodoria began to step over Launch, she sat herself up with a growl. Despite the searing pain and warm, moist blood she could feel pooling in her abdomen, she forced herself to reach for Dodoria's hand and peel the gun from his fingers. Now with two guns in her hands, hers and Dodoria's, she smirked for only a second. That hard, cold metal and the curved triggers in her grasp were a welcome feeling right now.

"Hey!" Dodoria shouted, whirling on her as he looked at his empty palm. "What the fuck?"

"Fuck," Launch cocked the triggers, "all of ya."

Dodoria's and Zarbon's eyes bulged at the sound of the first gunshot. But Launch didn't stop there, even after the blood sprayed from Dodoria's abdomen. She shot off one round after another, struggling to aim at all three of them through her blurred vision as the bitter taste of her own blood filled her mouth. She got Dodoria good, and she knew it. Zarbon she could see, but wasn't sure if she was hitting. Frieza, unfortunately, she couldn't even get a good view of him. She just hoped Roshi had moved the hell out of the way, because everything behind the bar was getting destroyed as glass shattered and liquors sprayed across the bar. And then one hollow click sounded after another, telling Launch she'd run out of bullets when the gunshots ceased.

As Mr. Dodoria clutched his abdomen, collapsing straight to the ground, Zarbon watched in awe. His shoulder stung like hell from the bullet that had grazed him, but he was relieved to have incurred no further damage, and to see that Lord Frieza had escaped the incident flawlessly. Flawlessly, aside from the furious glimmer in his eyes causing him to lose his composure.

With his right eye twitching sporadically, Frieza watched the woman let out a wheeze as her head fell back. His brows lowered in a glare as he watched both guns fall loose from her unfurling fingers. No one had ever dared attack one of his men in his presence like that. He was glad the bitch was dying.

Launch was dying. Chiaotzu was dead. And everyone else was still in danger, subject to the cruel whims of Frieza and his men. Tien couldn't believe what he was seeing happening in his saloon. He couldn't let anything happen to anyone else, either. Judging by the burning fury in Frieza's eyes, the killing wasn't going to stop at Launch - not unless someone put a stop to it. _He_ had to put a stop to this.

"Frieza!"

"No!" Roshi's cry echoed through the tense atmosphere of the saloon.

He reacted instantaneously, pushing Tien back before his seething friend could spring another attack on Frieza. The killing had to stop, and Roshi was not going to allow the same deadly fate as the others to befall Tien. Launch was still alive. If there was anything Roshi could do for Tien now, it was to help him focus on what was important - on what he _could_ accomplish.

"Tien!" Roshi growled. "Go help Launch. She needs you now."

Tien gasped, looking to Launch as blood trickled from the corner of her luscious lips. His eyes traveled her face, down the curve of her neck, and over the hollow of her clavicle, and finally over the slow, shallow rise of her chest. She was still breathing. Tien's eyes darted to Frieza, who was still glaring but turning his gaze back to the bar. As Frieza reached for his drink, Tien acted quickly. He wouldn't give that monster or his right-hand man the chance to touch Launch again. He needed to get her out of there.

"Launch!" Tien's knees hit the wooden, splintering floor hard. "Launch, I'm going to get you out of here."

Launch's eyes fluttered open, remaining half-lidded as a small smirk crossed her face. "Did you see…" she coughed and winced, "did ya see, Tien, how I took that bastard down?"

Tien laughed, in spite of himself. "Yeah. Just relax, Launch. I've got you. I'm going to take you to see Dr. Brief."

Launch relaxed at Tien's command, not having much of a choice to fight it. As her eyes slid closed, she reveled in the sensation of Tien's strong arms sweeping beneath her and lifting her up. Being held in his arms was pleasurable enough to counter the bullet wound in her abdomen that hurt like a bitch. She hoped Tien was right that Dr. Brief could save her life. Then, she might have a chance to be in Tien's arms again. Yet, if she died right now, she could die happy.

"You're going to be okay, Launch." Tien grimaced as he carried her away, not even paying attention to the hostile presences watching him. "You're a survivor."

"Mr. Roshi," Frieza's voice instantly chilled the lightening atmosphere of the saloon, "I am _not_ impressed with your establishment here."

At the distant tables, their witnesses remained speechless. Ox's teeth were chattering as he anticipated Frieza's next move, and even his daughter's possible reaction. Chi-Chi was wrapped tightly in her father's arms while he secured her safely at her table, though her laudanum-influenced state seemed to be dampening her need to strike out against the injustice she'd just witnessed. Oolong was raising his head, finally coming around due to all the noise and chaos surrounding him. As soon as he sighted the bloody scene around him, he nestled his head back in his arms and shivered, pretending to be unconscious and hoping to become invisible to the killers in the saloon.

Roshi clenched his jaw, knowing he had no move here at the moment. Frieza was angered by Mr. Dodoria's murder, while Mr. Zarbon seemed indifferent to it, yet just as likely to strike out at them for the same sick enjoyment they seemed to find in killing innocent people. At least Tien made it safely out of there. Roshi was relieved that Frieza had allowed him to leave unscathed. Maybe they all could, if he played this right.

Zarbon scowled at Roshi. "I'm not impressed, either."

"Just look at this, Zarbon," Frieza smiled down at the blood-splattered ground, "they can't even keep the floors clean!"

Zarbon laughed, while Frieza chuckled and fixed his gaze on Roshi's horrified expression. Shaking his head slowly, Roshi gulped. He had to control himself, and he had to do something fast, before someone else would react in a way that could start more trouble.

Forcing a smile, Roshi made his way around the bar. "Lord Frieza, how about a drink for the road?"

"For me?" Frieza smiled, his eyes lighting. "Why, thank you. That _might_ make up for my dissatisfaction today."

"We knew you could be a decent businessman." Zarbon said. "You just needed a little push."

As Roshi refilled their two drinks, the villains smiled at one another. It seemed Dodoria's death was quickly forgotten. That wasn't too surprising. They didn't seem the sentimental types. Frieza would probably kill his men himself if they displeased him.

Roshi cleared his throat as he watched the men lift their drinks from the bar with satisfied smiles. "Glad I could be of service today. Now, if you'll kindly be on your ways."

When Roshi cast his eyes downward, Frieza briefly followed his gaze. "Yes, I see you have a mess to clean up. We'll leave you to it, seeing that this is your saloon."

At least, for the time being. Frieza intended to take Champ's first, then the West City Saloon. With the Saiyans having conveniently robbed the bank, no one had the capital to refuse his offers. This was playing out all too perfectly for him. All he was waiting on now were the return of the Ginyus with the Saiyans in their custody. Frieza was beginning to wonder what was taking them so long to return.

"And Mr. Dodoria?"

Drawn from his thoughts, Frieza tsked at the bartender, setting his gaze on his fallen underling. That fool had allowed a woman to kill him, and one who wasn't even trained. If he expected any sort of memorial upon his death, he was sadly mistaken.

"Do what you want with the body." Frieza shrugged. "He's no longer my concern. Let's go, Zarbon."

Zarbon blinked, briefly surprised by Frieza's blatant disregard of Mr. Dodoria, but quickly turned to follow his boss while taking a swig of his complimentary whiskey. As he felt the warm liquid coat his throat, he turned to give the bartender a wink. "We'll be back again soon."

Roshi shuddered, and though his knees trembled behind the concealment of the bar, he masked his gaze as he looked back at Zarbon, until the man finally turned towards the door. He held his breath for what felt like forever, until those swinging doors were finally pushed open with a clattering noise that broke the tense silence. When the men left and those doors swung closed behind them again, it was like a thick fog had instantaneously lifted from the place.

"Mm," Chi-Chi slurred from across the bar, "someone needs to do somethin' about that monster."

"Oh," Ox groaned, rubbing his daughter's back, "I hope Launch will be okay."

While Oolong sadly raised his head to gaze around the saloon with a solemn frown, Roshi sighed, looking down at the two dead bodies bleeding out on the ground. "Chiaotzu…"

His heart wrenched as his eyes burned with tears. He couldn't let them fall, because he had to be strong. The town needed leadership, but everyone was quickly disappearing on them. He seemed to be the town's only option at the moment, at least there in the saloon.

"At least that Dodoria guy is done in." Oolong said, though he knew his words were hardly uplifting, "he gave me the creeps."

"They all give me the creeps." Roshi said. "But we've got to remain strong around here."

Goku would be back soon. He had to be. Roshi knew they could rely on him to do something about this. And he didn't know what happened to Krillin, but Krillin had to come back. He was their sheriff, and the town needed a sheriff now more than ever. With a man like Frieza around, West City was in trouble.

* * *

"Mr. Zarbon," Frieza smiled as he stepped down from the creaking saloon stairs onto the mucky dirt street, "I was wondering about something in there."

Zarbon stepped around a deep, disgusting puddle of filth on the street. "Yes, Lord Frieza? You intend to take the saloon?"

Frieza scoffed. "Of course I do. You know that."

"Then," Zarbon furrowed his brows, "Mr. Dodoria…?"

With a grunt, Frieza turned a glare on the man walking beside him. "Don't mention that failure ever again in my presence."

"Y-yes, Lord Frieza."

Before any more stupidity could consume their conversation, Frieza hurried to speak before Zarbon. "And please stop guessing my thoughts. You'll never figure it out."

Zarbon kept his mouth shut as he gave Frieza a curt nod. He knew not to push his luck with the entrepreneurial tyrant of wealth. Just seeing what had just happened to Dodoria was eye-opening enough to make him realize his place. They were nearly returning to Frieza's saloon now as they passed the lively music of the bawdry house. As Zarbon glanced up, a blue-haired woman leaned outside the upstairs window, smiling and winking at him. A fleeting smile crossed Zarbon's face at the sight of her. He supposed he was going to have to pick a new favorite whore now.

After appreciating the silence Zarbon granted him, which was only tainted by the belching of a stumbling drunk in the alleyway they'd just passed, Frieza sighed. He had to gather patience for this conversation.

"What I was wondering, Mr. Zarbon," Frieza smiled, "was what is taking Captain Ginyu so long? I pay him and his men more than enough for their services, don't I?"

"Of course, Lord Frieza!"

"Then he should be back by now. I _want_ those Saiyans."

Zarbon dabbed a drop of sweat from his temple. "The Ginyus probably have them in their custody or dead already."

Stepping foot on the newly constructed stair leading into his saloon, Frieza paused. "Probably?"

Zarbon's eyes widened before he shook his head. "The Ginyus are the best of the best, Lord Frieza. They must've killed the Saiyans by now, or they could be delivering them to you to do with them as you wish."

Frieza narrowed his eyes and proceeded up the steps to his lavish entryway. "I hope you're right, Zarbon. I don't like surprises."

Taking a long breath at the top of the stairs, Zarbon hesitated as he watched Frieza walk through the purple curtain-draped archway into a sea of hedonistic patrons laughing and indulging in spirits inside that saloon. The piano keys were rattling off a jazzy tune, but Zarbon couldn't feel the same air of celebration everyone inside was experiencing. Turning his head to the side, he squinted towards the scorching, sunlit, quiet dirt road of West City. Not too many horses had been coming in lately, but he could only hope that the next ones that did would be Ginyus. There was no telling how much longer Lord Frieza's patience would hold out, but Zarbon didn't want to be the one to suffer for their delay.


	14. Ridin' In

The noonday sun was scorching. Bulma could feel her fair skin burning while a drop of sweat rolled from her moistened hairline down her forehead. As the horse trotted on, hopefully leading them to their destination, Bulma was already regretting having traveled away from the shade of the trees. But out there in the blazing wasteland, Bulma was having her doubts. There was no sign of West City, and for the amount of time she'd spent on horseback, she was pretty sure she should be seeing something by now. She'd _kill_ for a compass. Unfortunately, it seemed the Saiyan dimwits had forgotten to pack one along with their other supplies.

"Wh…" the gravelly utterance made Bulma flinch, "wh…ere are we?"

"Ugh." Bulma grimaced.

She wished Vegeta would lose consciousness again. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to turn around and knock him out, because the last thing she needed now was for an angry, feverish bandit to come around and get critical about her navigation skills.

"Well?"

Pressing her lips together, Bulma exhaled through her nose. "Where's your compass?"

"My what?"

Shifting across the saddle, Vegeta opened his eyes, squinting at the blinding light surrounding him from every angle. His head throbbed immediately, just before another adjustment made the wound in his shoulder feel a shockwave of pain. Shit. He was in bad shape. Even worse, he was relying on a city woman to get him out of the wilderness, somewhere safe from Frieza.

"You heard me." Bulma retorted. "What kind of traveler doesn't carry a compass? How do you Saiyans even get around?"

Turning his head from the vast, barren yellow wasteland to the woman's backside where she was seated on the saddle in front of him, Vegeta growled. "You're going the wrong way."

"What?" She shrieked. "How would _you_ know that?"

Vegeta winced as the noise rang through his ears. Pushing himself up, Vegeta prepared to yell at the woman. But he quickly collapsed, chest-first on the horse as his injured arm gave out, which only further aggravated him.

"Stupid city woman! Use the sun!"

Bulma blinked. "The sun? But it was noon…"

As she shielded her eyes with a flat palm and gazed up at the sun overhead, Vegeta stubbornly pushed himself upright behind her with the use of only his good arm this time.

"Maybe it _was_ noon," Vegeta snarled, "now it's _after_ noon, and the sun is obviously to the West!"

"Hey!"

When Bulma drew the horse to a sudden stop with a whip of the reins, Vegeta growled as he struggled to maintain his balance with his positioning still being off. It hurt like a bitch, having to use his bad arm so forcefully to right himself on the horse. But by the time she started speaking again, he was sitting upright behind her, feeling her warmth radiating off of her as his chest was pinned against her back.

"You can't blame me for getting a little lost out here," Bulma said, "just because _you_ were unconscious and unprepared. For a group of infamous tough guys, you and your men seem to work like a bunch of amateurs."

"Amateurs?!"

Bulma smirked to herself. "That's right."

However, her smirk quickly turned down into a grimace as she realized she was taunting and angering a murderous Saiyan who was pressed up against her back and could slit her throat within a second like he'd done to that Ginyu lawman.

"But don't worry." Keeping her eyes locked straight ahead, Bulma smoothed the situation with her cool tone. "I see where we're headed now."

The sight of angular shapes in the sky ahead was promising and welcome to Bulma. Familiar and comforting to see, the skyline was a part of her hometown, which she would always be able to recognize easily. She was almost back in West City. A shifting of the Saiyan behind her and she frowned at the reminder that she wasn't alone. _They_ were almost back in West City.

With his eye twitching, Vegeta looked past Bulma to spy their destination. She sounded confident that she'd found what she was looking for, but Vegeta was certain she was heading the wrong way. This didn't look like the route out of West City and into the next town.

The sight ahead of him confirmed his fears. Vegeta was staring at the outline of a city, past invisible swirls of heat that were floating through the air and blurring the lines of the buildings up ahead. One of those buildings surely contained Frieza. And Vegeta could bet that the place was crawling with Frieza's men. Any one of them would recognize him on sight, and in his current state, he was as good as dead if he just rode in there on horseback.

"Are you out of your mind, woman?!"

"Hey, cowboy," Bulma smiled to herself and narrowed her eyes, "you haven't been looking so hot back there. If you don't want to die, I don't know where else you want to go. With how long we've been riding, I wouldn't be surprised if that bullet wound is festering already. You need to see a doctor. And there's none better around here than my dad. He'll fix you up."

"Sure." Vegeta scoffed, wincing in pain as the rough ride jostled his shoulder. "If I'm still alive when I get to him."

Bulma frowned to herself. West City was getting closer with each gallop the horse took, and to Bulma, safety was in sight. But it was now obvious to her that Vegeta seriously perceived the town as the place of his doom. Whoever this new guy in West City was, he had to be pretty damn creepy if he had a guy like _Vegeta_ scared.

Bulma huffed. "You really think you're going to be killed by someone there?"

"I don't _think_." Vegeta growled. "I _know_. And you will be, too, just for riding in with me."

"Me?"

Upon hearing the surprise in her voice, Vegeta rolled his eyes. He had been warning her of the danger of Frieza ever since parting from the Ginyus. It was only now, with the place in sight, that she was finally listening to him. At least now she was scared and likely sensible enough to realize that riding into that town was beyond risky.

"Maybe I should," she chuckled nervously, "ride in alone?"

"What?" Vegeta snatched the woman by the hair pinned and swirled, dangling delicately from her intricate blue bun. "You are _not_ leaving me out here to die slowly from a lousy festering wound."

"I-" Bulma gulped, wincing at the pain in her neck before Vegeta released her hair, "I didn't mean I'd leave you out here to die. I just meant to make it _appear_ that I'm riding in alone. We'll have to hide you from prying eyes somehow. And don't worry, I know a way into my Dad's hotel where we can avoid the main street."

Vegeta hissed through his teeth, cupping his hand around his bleeding wounded shoulder as he glared at the woman's back. She was lying, and he knew it. If she could, she would leave him behind in order to save herself. He knew it, because it's what _he_ would do. And for the short time he had known that woman, he was beginning to realize she was a lot more like him than he would've expected.

"Fine. Hide me." Vegeta smirked. "You're going to need me after I recover anyways, if anyone in this pathetic town wants to survive Frieza."

"What?"

"He's destroyed every town he's ever taken over."

Blinking towards the swirling haze of heat and sand-colored, barren terrain, Bulma tightened her hold around the leather straps of the reins. "Taken over? How could he take over West City? Yamcha's still there, and-"

Vegeta laughed, though his voice was weakening. "You think your pathetic lawmen stand a chance against Frieza? They are nothing to him, nothing more than flies lining up to be crushed under his finger. Everyone else will fall in line, or suffer the same fate. I've seen it time and time again."

After a beat of silence, Bulma cocked her head. "Is that what happened to you and Goku?"

"…what?"

"You Saiyans. He's the reason you all left home, isn't he? It's this Frieza that drove you out of your town."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "How would you kno-"

"Goku's talked about it a little." Bulma shrugged. "But it's obvious he doesn't _like_ talking about it. He's real sketchy about his past." With a glance over her shoulder, Bulma added, "Now I can see why."

"His name's not Goku, it's Kakarot."

"Just like you're not a decent human being," Bulma quirked a brow as she inflected doubt in her tone, "but a cold-hearted killer who's only out to save himself?"

Vegeta grit his teeth. "That's right."

With her eyes fixed on the enlarging brown, wood-structured building to which they were drawing near, Bulma nodded "His name _is_ Goku. It has been for the last five years he's been in West City."

Bulma allowed that to sink in for Vegeta as she visually scanned their surroundings. There was still no sign of people, but she supposed if Vegeta was really wanted by this Frieza guy, there were probably some men keeping an eye out for him and the other Saiyans around the perimeter of the city.

Knowing they couldn't be too careful, Bulma twisted to reach into the pack hanging from the side of the horse's saddle. She gasped when her fingers traced the line of Vegeta's muscular thigh pressed up against the horse. His slight movement in reaction only increased her nervous, fluttering feeling. With everything going on, she didn't realize the closeness of their positions. Now, being more cognizant of him, she felt everything. The warmth of his groin pressed against her backside, the smooth, hard line of his stomach and chest pressed against the curve of her back, even his breath blowing over the hairs hanging on the back of her neck became more prominent in her mind. But with steely resolve, she ignored the feelings that were making her legs quiver for a brief moment and dug her hand deep into the pack. When she grasped something soft, Bulma pulled it out slowly but firmly. Then she thrust it over her head.

"Here," she said, "pull this over you and lay down again."

Vegeta sneered at the wooly red, green and white fabric being thrust in his face. As he snatched it from Bulma's grasp, he opened his mouth to object, but the sight of movement in his peripheral vision made the words get caught in his throat. Around the corner of one of the buildings outskirting West City, someone had just ducked behind a corner. He didn't know whether he had been seen, but in case he hadn't, Vegeta didn't want to take the risk.

"Vegeta!" Bulma gasped and pulled on the reins, recognizing a figure darting behind a building, "they might see you. We're almost at the Capsule Hotel now. Just hold still."

"I'm not an idiot." Vegeta's muffled voice came from beneath the blanket. "Maybe _you_ should stop talking to your supplies if you don't want to look obvious."

With her eyes darting around every corner, every rooftop, Bulma led her horse to the closest buildings. Between them, there was a narrow, vacant alley. Even from the backside of the establishments, she could recognize these places as Kami's general store and the stables, what with the rancid smell of horses and manure from one place and crates full of supplies lined up behind the other. Now she only had to pass through the alley and then make her way past the entrance of the general store to get to the side entrance of the nearby Capsule hotel.

Behind her, Vegeta shuffled and huffed. "I can't believe I'm using a blanket to conceal myself."

"I could pull it off of you and let Frieza and his men grab you right here."

That seemed to shut him up. Vegeta not only grew quiet, but stilled. With a huff of determination, Bulma narrowed her eyes and drew in by horse, her eyes busily watching for any sign of people around her. The alley remained quiet and vacant, and as Bulma passed out of the shadow of the buildings, she was able to turn in front of the general store without any strange people approaching her. She only had to go a little further to make it to a safe place. She knew once she was inside, her parents would conceal Vegeta's identity if she asked. And there was no reason anyone should be coming to her parents' hotel looking for the Saiyans.

"M-Miss Brief."

At the sound of the stunned, deep voice, Bulma froze, her eyes widening as she drew her horse to a stop. She had no idea what had gone on in town since she'd left, but as she smiled and turned to face her greeter, it was obvious that Mr. Popo was surprised to see her alive and well, riding into town of her own accord.

"Good…afternoon, Mr. Popo."

"A-are you-"

"I don't have time to talk now, Mr. Popo." Bulma chuckled nervously and played with the leather reins in between her trembling fingers. "Please say hello to Mr. Kami for me. I'm going to see my parents now and let them know I'm all right."

Mr. Popo stopped gaping at her to nod. "Y-yes. Good."

"Goodbye."

"G-good…bye."

Bulma rode forward, ignoring the tension she could sense from the silent man behind her. Even without moving or making a sound, Vegeta seemed to be emanating frustration. Bulma couldn't take that at the moment. She couldn't wait to get the murderous sociopath off her horse and into someone else's hands. Once she was in the hotel, her father could take it from there.

When she finally reached the rarely-used side entrance of the hotel, Bulma let out a heavy sigh of relief. It was too soon to be relieved, though. She jumped gracefully off the horse, smiling at the quaint, rotting wooden door she didn't think she'd ever see again. She was so happy to see it now, happier than she thought she ever would be.

"Come on, Vegeta. The coast is clear." Bulma turned her head frantically side to side, though Vegeta didn't budge. "You can get down now."

Narrowing her eyes at the door, Bulma stepped toward it, reaching for the knob before she realized she wasn't hearing anything from Vegeta. There was no grunt or scoff that she'd expect to hear, not a word, not even the sound of his feet hitting the ground. Stopping herself, Bulma shot her gaze to the horse, surprised to see that Vegeta hadn't even budged.

"Vege-"

Bulma stopped herself when the narrow alley between her parents' hotel and the general store was passed by an odd-looking man in heavy spurs, holstered with weapons, whom she'd never seen before. She didn't want him to notice her there. She especially didn't want him to hear her uttering Vegeta's name. But judging by the way there was still no response from Vegeta, she was sure he'd passed out again. She needed to get him to her father right away. The only way to do that was to leave him alone in the alley just long enough to find someone to help her carry him inside.

Grimacing at her options, Bulma yanked the door open and darted inside, immediately running down the narrow, red-carpeted hallway, towards her mother's office. She didn't know what good she and her mother would do, but she had to find someone and she didn't have much time.

"Mom!"

"Bulma?"

At the sound of her father's surprised voice, Bulma inhaled sharply in relief. She rounded the corner to find a less relieving sight in her mother's office than she expected to see. Her parents were both there, with Tien, already busy with a patient laid out on a small cot.

"Bulma!" Her mother was the first to stand, opening her arms wide as she came forward. "Oh, honey! I'm so happy you came back!"

"M-mom," Bulma licked her lips as her mother wrapped her arms around her neck in a smothering embrace, "dad."

Dr. Brief turned to cock his head at Bulma. "Where have you been, Sweetheart?"

"Dr. Brief." Tien nodded firmly at the patient laid in bed, a very pale and still blonde.

Bulma furrowed her brows. "Is that Launch?"

Tien nodded before returning his solemn gaze to the woman in the bed. "She was shot."

As her mother released Bulma to turn and face Tien, Bulma gasped. "Not her too."

"Well," Mrs. Brief cocked her head, "who else was shot?"

"Tien," Bulma formed her lips into a hard line, "you need to come outside and help me right now. Then I can explain."

"But-"

"She's in good hands, Tien." Dr. Brief smiled up at the hovering man. "You go help Bulma. We'll be here when you get back."

As soon as Tien's eyes were on her again, Bulma hurried out of the room. She retraced her steps, fighting the tears that wanted to well to her eyes as she hurried back to Vegeta with Tien's noisy footsteps storming behind hers. She should have been celebrating her return home, but instead had to focus on people with gunshot wounds, whose lives were in danger. She had no idea what had transpired in West City while she was gone, but it was obvious by the grim expression on Tien's face as he followed her out that something terrible happened there. Vegeta was right. West City was in greater danger than Bulma would've ever thought possible for their peaceful city. She just hoped that when he awoke, and when Goku and the others returned, they would be able to defend the town.

* * *

As he rode his horse around yet another vacant clearing in the woods, Krillin realized he was spending far too much time worrying about the worst-case scenarios here. The Namekians ambushing and killing them before they even found the camp or had a chance to explain themselves. The native camp never being found, leaving both Eighteen and Goku dying before help could be found. Gohan losing the uncanny resolve for a five-year old he'd held through this, thereby leaving Krillin solely responsible for making sure they succeeded. These were all thoughts that crossed his mind as he rode over leaves, twigs and stony boulders in search of an elusive village.

Goku wouldn't be thinking that way. Not even Tien, Chiaotzu, Mr. Roshi or Yamcha. Krillin knew his friends would be focusing on the positive, or at least too determined to _find_ that positive outcome to focus on the alternative possibilities like Krillin was. Even Gohan, a little kid, seemed more confident that everything would work out than Krillin felt.

With a deep breath, Gohan shifted his gaze from Krillin's worrisome face to the winding paths of wilderness ahead. He knew Krillin was worried, and honestly he was, too. His dad had to be in bad shape, lying passed out on the back of his horse for as long as he had been during their journey. Cell had really laid into him in that fight. He needed to be healed. Miss Gero seemed even worse. In spite of his fears, Gohan knew it was up to him to make sure they found help before it was too late. He couldn't let his dad down.

Krillin prepared to open his mouth with alternatives. If they turned around now, there was a slight chance they could get Eighteen and Goku back to see Dr. Brief before it was too late. But Gohan's utterance of surprise made the words catch in his throat. After swallowing his words, Krillin strained his neck to see past the thick, low-hanging tree branch partially blocking his view of a flutter of movement he saw up ahead.

"K-Krillin!" Gohan whispered.

The whimpering in the distance made Krillin take pause. The voice of a small child followed, the tone sounding soothing but words spoken in a foreign tongue Krillin couldn't understand. When he drew his horse to a stop, those childish sounds ceased. He slid his legs to the side and slipped off the horse, approaching the source of the noises carefully with a signal of quiet raised to Gohan with his finger. The boy obediently remained on his unmoving horse, but Krillin couldn't help feeling nervous as he approached the voices. There was always the possibility that someone was there aside from children. To be cautious, he brought his hand to his pistol at his holster.

When Krillin moved around a tree to spy, partly concealed behind a few leafy branches, two boys seated against a rock, his jaw fell. The boys were young, and apparently injured. But more than the injury or the youth of the boys, he was struck by their clothing and the hue of their skin. These boys were obviously Nameks.

"Krillin?"

The curious voice behind him made Krillin freeze as the two Namekian boys gasped and shot their gaze Krillin's way to lock their dark, wary eyes with his.

" _Kr…illin_?" One of the boys asked curiously as he stood protectively over the other one.

Leaves crunched from behind as Gohan approached. "What is-"

As the other boys' gazes were diverted just behind him, Krillin heard Gohan let out a heavy sigh. It looked like the boys were alone, and scared. Krillin didn't want to frighten them, so he relaxed his fingers from his holster and dropped his hand to his side. He didn't know what to do. If the boys were really alone, the Namekian tribe couldn't be far. But delivering the boys there might make them look guilty.

Gohan grasped Krillin's arm. "He's hurt, Krillin. We have to help him."

"Gohan-"

"What's your name?" Gohan failed to recognize Krillin's warning tone as he stepped forward to smile at the other boys. "I'm Gohan. Gohan Son."

The boy who earlier stood to his feet raised a brow at Gohan, then cast a furtive glance at his wincing friend clutching his bleeding knee, then looked to Gohan again. "Go…han?"

"That's right." Gohan stooped to his knees and smiled. "And you are?"

The boy's brows rose high before he placed a flat palm to his chest. "Dende."

"Dende?"

The boy nodded and pointed to his injured friend. "Cargo."

As Krillin eased forward, he heard Gohan let out a grunt. "He's hurt, Dende. We can help him."

Krillin backed up when Gohan stood to his feet, gesturing to the loaded horses behind them. It was true that one horse was busy carrying Eighteen and the other was carrying Goku, who both needed help, but the small boys could easily be added to the horses. Gohan and Krillin could walk. Especially if the Namekian village was close and they moved fast. Krillin could overlook the fact that the Namekians would most likely kill them when they showed, if it meant saving Goku and Eighteen.

"Yeah, here," Krillin smiled at the frightened young boy and gestured to the saddle, "I'll help you and your friend get home. Just lead the way."

"Krillin," Gohan said as Dende shrank from Krillin's advance, "I think it's over there."

Peering into the distance, Gohan pointed at some shapes that looked different from the outlines of the trees. It was hard to make out, but he was pretty sure he saw straight lines and other colors aside from the many shades of browns and greys they'd been seeing through their travels.

Immediately seeing where Gohan was pointing, Dende smiled and vigorously nodded his head. "Guru!"

"Guru?" Krill scratched his head as he watched the wounded boy's face light with excitement as well. "What's a Guru?"

Gohan shrugged. "Maybe that's what they call their village."

"Guru, Gohan!" Dende grasped Gohan's hand and gave it a fervent tug. "Guru can help."

Krillin blinked at the realization that the Namekian children spoke English. Then he looked to Cargo, assume the wounded boy climbing to his feet would be relieved to discover the nearness of his help. Instead, he found a look of reassurance in the boy's eyes, and then noticed both boys were looking pointedly to the horses - to Goku and Eighteen.

A wide smile crossed Gohan's face. "Really?"

Cargo limped towards them, smiling. "Guru can help your friends, and he'll _want_ to thank you for giving us a ride home."

"Great!"

"All right," Krillin huffed, "let's go see this Guru."

Gohan was quick to help the other boys onto the horses. He couldn't wait to help everyone who was hurt. If these Namekian boys were this kind, the adults couldn't be bad.

* * *

The Namekian village was different from West City, but not nearly as different as Krillin had always expected it to be. They had hand-constructed dome-shaped clay homes and land full of crops. They had their young, their old - all of them working to do their part. They also had many warriors with stern brows and scowls on their faces who looked as threatening and intimidating as Piccolo. One in particular, standing beside the round, carved window of the healer's dwelling looked _exactly_ like Piccolo. But Krillin knew it wasn't him, because the Nameks called him Nail, and though Gohan couldn't quite look away from him, the Namek seemed put-off by the unexpected attention from the young city boy he clearly didn't recognize.

Gohan shifted his gaze from Nail's frown to Krillin's pensive stare. It made him jump with a start, realizing someone's attention had been so focused on him. He was already thinking deeply, wondering about the strange treatment the Nameks were giving Eighteen and his father. It was true that the slightest attention from the large, tired-looking chief known as Guru seemed to do the trick for Gohan's wounded shoulder, which felt much better already. But looking down at the resting parties with their wounds smothered in thick, green natural remedies of some sort, Gohan wondered if it would really help them as easily. Eighteen had lost a lot of blood. His father was more responsive, in and out of sleep, but he seemed to have broken a fever as he struggled in his sleep. When Goku recently settled into sleep again, a silence had filled the air. That silence still hung heavily.

"H-" Krillin frowned when all eyes turned on him, "how…long do you think they'll be out?"

"Out?" Guru raised a brow, though his eyes still looked closed under his layers of wrinkles and crows' feet. "Long time. Your friends need to rest for the magic to do its work."

Krillin raised a brow. "Magic?"

He couldn't help making a face, which he was sure the Namekians could see. He certainly didn't believe there was any magic going on under those crushed leaves and herbs, but if the Nameks needed to think so in order for this healing to happen, then he would leave it alone. He hoped Goku knew what he was talking about, suggesting this place for help. He didn't want to watch his friends die. But right now, watching them slowly heal, he was feeling anxious. He knew West City was in trouble, and every moment they spent away was a chance for something bad to happen.

"Mr. Guru?" Gohan asked.

The old man grunted in acknowledgement, bracing both hands on his large knees as Gohan twiddled his fingers and stepped forward. Now that he had the chief's attention, Gohan wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He did want to know where Piccolo was, though. He expected to find him there, along with Raditz. But there was no trace of him, aside from a lot of men that looked eerily similar to Piccolo. But if he never asked, he'd never know. He had to ask.

At the moment Gohan decided, the old man smiled. "Go on, young one."

"Um…did-was Mr. Piccolo here before us?"

"Piccolo?" The voice came from behind Gohan, gruffer and more hostile than Guru's.

Gohan spun around to face Nail. "Yes."

"He was here." Nail's smirk made Gohan's eyes widen in alarm. "But he left for West City."

Gohan's shoulders sagged. "He left?"

He assumed Piccolo must've healed the Saiyan bandit and both moved on already, but still Gohan was disappointed to have missed him. At least he knew Piccolo was all right.

"Gohan." Krillin's voice was resolute.

He knew what they had to do now. Krillin was reluctant to leave. It would be a hell of a lot safer staying with the Namekians until after Goku and Eighteen both healed enough to come with them, but West City couldn't wait. Krillin was still the sheriff, and now with Piccolo being thrown into the mix with the dangers that were already there, he couldn't trust that it would be safe without his help. Besides, Gohan's mother had to be worried sick about him. It was high time he brought the boy home. Goku would catch up as soon as he was feeling well. He always pulled through.

When Gohan's innocent eyes blinked up at him, Krillin knew he made the right decision. "Krillin?"

Krillin met Gohan's curious gaze and smiled. "We're going home, Gohan. Your mom's probably ready to run out here and drag you home herself."

Gohan gasped. The thought of returning to West City was exciting and promising, but that would mean leaving his dad and Miss Gero behind. Gohan knew they were in good hands here, but the thought of leaving them seemed wrong.

"Your dad and Eighteen need time to heal. We aren't doing any good by staying here, Gohan. They can catch up to us when they're better."

Gohan knew his dad was tough, and Miss Gero seemed to be too. It wasn't like he could do anymore for them by staying there. And Krillin was right that his mom had to be missing him. Gohan really missed _her_ , too. He missed home. Even if home was a different place now with dangerous people, it would still be worth coming back to. It was still the place where he wanted to be. And if there was any way for him to help when he was there, it had to be better than standing idly by over here.

"Okay, Sheriff." Gohan smiled and met Krillin's gaze. "Let's go home."


	15. Leaving The Wild Behind

The wind whistled in Piccolo's ears as he faced the nearly vacant main street of the town he'd learned to call home. It was very still, and very quiet, but otherwise not far from how he'd left it. Some new construction had been done while he was away, as he noticed when his eye landed on a purple curtain billowing from a newly-built porch-front. That entire building was new to him, and whoever built it had to have plenty of capital to get it done that quickly. Piccolo didn't need to think twice to know who that was.

As his eyes descended on the drunkard passed out over his cart of wares nearby, Piccolo pulled on the reins. He was ready to move his horse forward and investigate the town. He especially wanted to know more about this Frieza Cold the others had warned him about. But at the startling noise of horse's hooves skidding through the dirt behind him, Piccolo froze. Then in one smooth movement, he turned and drew his knife from his belt.

"Wait!"

The panicked voice caught Piccolo just in time, making him hesitate just as he was about to throw the knife. His eyes landed on the petrified face of West City's sheriff. Steeling his grip around his knife as his eyes landed on the familiar young boy riding beside the sheriff, Piccolo exhaled.

Krillin's racing heart slowly returned to a normal pace as he lowered his hands. He was sure he'd never had so many close calls in his life as he'd had in the past few days. If he'd shouted one second later, Krillin was certain Piccolo would've knifed him.

"Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan beamed at the familiar face, but when Piccolo remained stoic, his smile fell. "Mr. Piccolo?"

"I'm glad you made it back, Gohan." Piccolo's eyes darted from Gohan to Krillin. "What happened to Son?"

Gohan's eyes narrowed as he moved towards Piccolo. "He was hurt. But he's coming. Just wait."

"Hurt?" Piccolo balked. "And you left him-"

As Piccolo's eyes widened in realization, Krillin led his horse forward, meeting Piccolo's gaze with a stern look. "We just came from the same place you were, Piccolo. I didn't like having to come back here without them, but it seems your Namekian tribe can take care of them."

Piccolo raised a brow. "What did the Nameks tell you?"

"They told us," Gohan smiled, "we just missed you, Mr. Piccolo. I'm glad you decided to come back to West City, too."

Piccolo tried to remain stern, but he couldn't help cracking a smile at the boy's contagious enthusiasm. "Where else would I go, Kid? This is my home, too. This Lord Frieza isn't going to take it that easy if I have any say in the matter."

"Great." Krillin cleared his throat. "Well-"

"Ho, boy."

As Krillin blinked at the disruptive voice from a few feet away, Gohan and Piccolo turned to face the drunkard propping an elbow on his rickety cart and leaning towards them.

"The sheriff is back in town." Oolong continued. "We're all saved."

"Oolong!" Gohan jumped off his horse to run to and shake the little man's hand. "Is everyone all right here? My Mom? My Grandpa?"

"All right?" Oolong chuckled and shook his hand loose from Gohan's tight grip. "Depends on your definition of 'all right'. Physically, they're fine. But not all of us are so lucky. That Lord Frieza is a real piece of work."

Piccolo narrowed his eyes. "What happened, Oolong?"

"If y'all were smart, you would've stayed away from here."

"I said wha-" Piccolo cut himself off as he noticed movement from the corner of his eye.

Down the street, in the long shadows of the setting sun, a door was swinging open. Spurred, rattling boots stepped out, thumping against the wooden planks. When Gohan's gaze shot to the face, the dark-haired man turned to reveal his smile from beneath the brim of his hat.

Krillin beamed. "Yamcha!"

"Sheriff Krillin! Gohan!" Yamcha chuckled as he skipped down the steps. "Shoot, am I glad to see you!"

Noting the deputy's negligence at recognizing _his_ presence, Piccolo crossed his arms and remained on his horse as the other two ran to meet the sheriff. They were letting their guard down far too easy. Not all of West City was full of friendly faces. As the other two reunited with the deputy, Piccolo cast his eyes around the town. Some movement was happening from behind partly closed curtains within the new building, but no one was emerging from there yet.

Surely, this Frieza would take interest in the return of West City's sheriff. It was only a matter of time. For now, Piccolo could see the old man stepping out with a broom in hand to sweep the front porch of the West City Saloon and down further, the whores loitering around the porch of Satan's bawdry house. And of course, Kami stepped out of the general store right on cue, his perceptive gaze fixed on Piccolo.

Scoffing, Piccolo redirected his gaze to the little man crossing his arms and frowning at the spectacle of the deputy and sheriff chatting wildly with the kid. "Oolong, what happened to Shinhan?"

"What makes you think something happened to Tien?"

Piccolo raised his chin towards the saloon. "He's not at the saloon. I _know_ he'd be out here if he was."

Frowning, Oolong cast his gaze towards the ground. "Nothing happened to Tien, exactly. But something bad went down at his saloon. Chiaotzu's dead."

Gohan gasped. "Chiaotzu?"

Oolong nodded. "Yeah. And Launch was hurt pretty bad. Tien's takin' care of her. But at least she killed that fat jerk."

Krillin raised a brow. "Fat jerk?"

Yamcha stepped forward, removing his hat. "Mr. Dodoria. We just buried him and Chiaotzu."

"Hm." Piccolo huffed. "Seems we missed a lot while we were away."

Yamcha scowled as he replaced his hat on his head. Unfortunately, Piccolo was right. Yamcha wasn't sure if he wanted to know what had happened on the outskirts of West City. With the Ginyus, Saiyans and that bounty hunter on the loose out there, Yamcha was pretty sure they'd had a rougher time than even the people in town were having. Goku and Gohan's family were hardly keeping it together, not knowing what was happening with the two of them, Tien and his saloon were falling into a shambles, and Champ's seemed to be the only thing keeping peace in the town, as the proprietor appeased Frieza and his men with complimentary services from his women. Yamcha never would've thought he'd have Mr. Satan to thank for anything, but at the moment, he was mighty grateful for that man's presence in town. However, he knew the peace wasn't going to last long.

Krillin frowned sympathetically at his old friend and partner. Yamcha looked like he'd been through the ringer while they were away. When their gazes met and Yamcha's hand traveled to the badge pinned on his chest, Krillin realized there was no need for words between them. He could take it from here, as long as Yamcha had his back. Krillin knew, sooner or later, Goku would be back in West City. He could only hope Eighteen would choose to return as well. With a nod and a thick swallow of the responsibility he was accepting, Krillin took the badge from Yamcha's hand.

Yamcha smiled as he watched Krillin pin the sheriff's badge onto his brown vest. "The sheriff's back in town. Now we've just gotta show this Lord Frieza what this town is made of."

"Yeah." Piccolo snorted. "You two? You won't stand a chance against these guys."

"Mr. Piccolo," Gohan sought Piccolo's gaze, smiling when he caught it, "you'll stick around to help, won't you?"

"Gohan?"

Piccolo snapped his mouth shut before he'd even responded to the boy. That voice. He knew that voice. The hope and joy in her tone was clear, even though it was muffled by the wind, coming from a distance. But that distance was quickly closing with the fast approach of footsteps clunking through the dirt street and splashing through mud puddles. Piccolo didn't want to be involved in this reunion. Crossing his arms, he took a step back from the boy.

"Gohan!"

"M-mom?"

Gohan turned his head, his eyes widening at the sight of his overjoyed mother and grandfather emerging from his grandfather's bank a few doors down. His mother was running towards him at full speed, while his grandfather jogged behind her and her cloud of dust kicked up by her frantic run, with a mixture of worry and excitement on his face.

"Gohan!" Chi-Chi approached Gohan with her arms wide open, falling to her knees as soon as she could reach him. "Oh, my Gohan! You're back!"

"Mom."

Gohan smiled into his mother's smothering shoulder, not even minding the tight squeeze she was putting on him. Though it was slightly embarrassing to have so many people witnessing this, he was happy to feel his mother's arms - his mother's warmth - wrapped around him again. It felt like he had been away in the wilderness for months, rather than days. And judging by the way his mother held him tight, refusing to let him go for several minutes, she needed this. He was sure she'd been through a lot, too.

"Oh," Chi-Chi kissed Gohan's soft cheek, tears springing from her eyes, "you don't know how worried I was about you. When those filthy Saiyans and Piccol-"

"Mom," Gohan gently pushed his mother off of him, "Mr. Piccolo's not all that bad. He's actually nice once you get to know him."

"Nice?" Chi-Chi turned a glare on the native standing over them. "Is it _nice_ to kidnap someone else's child for money, Mr. Piccolo?"

"I didn't kidnap the kid," Piccolo grunted, "his uncle did."

"And _you_ kept him!" Chi-Chi sprang to her feet, pointing her finger in Piccolo's face. "You kept my baby out in the woods, away from his family, scared and alone. My Goku had to-"

"Mom."

"- _help_ those Saiya-"

"Mom!"

Chi-Chi bit her tongue, shocked by the tone Gohan was taking with her. It was unlike her son to be so disrespectful to his mother. She knew she'd raised him better than that. And she couldn't understand why he was interrupting. Piccolo was lucky she wasn't _killing_ him for what he'd done.

"Mom," Gohan cleared his throat, casting apologetic eyes on his mother, "I'm sorry, but things've changed. I learned a lot when I was out there, and I owe a lot to Mr. Piccolo. He's a good man now, I know he is."

Chi-Chi shook her head. "Gohan…"

"Chi-Chi," Ox placed a hand on Chi-Chi's shoulder, "Gohan's back safely now. Isn't that all that matters?"

"Mm," Chi-Chi shook her head slowly, "Dad…"

Gohan furrowed his brows, noticing for the first time that something was different about his mother as she stood with her face lit fully by the brightness of the setting sun hovering over the horizon. This reaction might've seemed dramatic, but for his mother, given the situation, Gohan realized she was toned down compared to how she _could've_ been reacting. And now that she was really calming down, it was even more apparent that her speech was slightly slurred and her eyes seemed unable to focus on any one thing.

"Mom?" Gohan raised his brows at his grandfather just past her shoulder. "Grandpa? What's wrong with-"

Yamcha smiled. "She's all right, Gohan."

Patting the kid on the back, while Ox pulled Chi-Chi to lean on the rails of the nearby building, Yamcha redirected Gohan a few steps away from his mother. "Your grandpa's just been giving her some medicine to help calm her down while you were away."

Piccolo raised a brow. "Medicine?"

Yamcha shrugged and whispered. "Laudanum. With a guy like Lord Frieza around here, and without Goku here to keep an eye on her, I guess he needed to keep Mrs. Son safe the only way he knew how."

"Dad," Chi-Chi growled, turning to head back to Gohan, "I'm fine. I want to take Gohan with me."

Gohan frowned past Yamcha, before stepping towards his mother. "Dad can't come back yet, Mom."

Chi-Chi clutched the splintering wooden rail, instinctively searching their surroundings before landing her eyes back on Gohan. "Why not? What is he doing? He's not…he didn't decide to take off with those Saiyans, did he?"

"No."

"Goku will be back when he recovers from his injuries." Piccolo narrowed his eyes at the group. "We need to be prepared in the meantime. Because life in this town isn't going to be easy. If Frieza's killing people already-"

Scowling at Piccolo, Chi-Chi ran forward to cup her hands over Gohan's ears. "Let's not worry about that. No one's going to let that happen again. We don't need to be scaring the children. That poor Satan girl is already terrified, being kept indoors by her father. She-"

"Videl?" Gohan pulled his mother's hands from his ears. "She's okay?"

"Oh. Is she a friend of yours, Sweetheart?"

"Yeah. Why's she scared?"

"Frieza's men have been spending a lot of their time around her home, Gohan. Her father's doing a good thing for this town, keeping them from getting violent again."

"No." Piccolo shook his head. "I think Frieza's moving in on the bawdry house. That's why his men are spending so much time there."

Yamcha raised his brows. "You mean you think he wants to buy it out?"

"Man," Krillin growled, "these guys never quit, do they? Yamcha, we'd better get to the office and start making some plans. We need to clear some room in the jail, because I have a feeling Frieza's goons are going to be headin' there soon."

"Yeah." Yamcha nodded. "I've already been stocking up the ammo. Since Tien's been busy with Launch, I've been on my own lately, but-"

"Tien's never going to let Frieza take over his saloon." Krillin pursed his lips. "We need to be ready for anything. Because I'm sure Frieza's not going to back down without a fight."

Piccolo raised his chin towards Frieza's saloon. "You're right about that."

Armed men were emerging from the indoors, finally. Their curious gazes darted to the group gathered together at the end of the street, and Piccolo sent them a smirk. He didn't need them to know he was scared, or that Frieza had this whole town scared. But they would have to be stupid _not_ to be. There was no telling what kind of surprises a man like Frieza might be hiding.

"Gohan," Chi-Chi grasped her son's small hand, "why don't you come with me? I was just about to bring dinner to the Capsule Hotel for everyone taking care of Launch."

"Hm?" Gohan raised his brows. "Okay."

Piccolo nodded at Gohan stepping away with his mother. "Good. Stay out of the way for now, Gohan. Let the adults handle this."

Chi-Chi sucked in a staggered breath when her son squeezed her hand and drew her to a brief stop. They quickly resumed walking, but she was still surprised by what she'd just heard. Maybe Piccolo really did have Gohan's interests in mind after all, though that was still hard for her to believe. The one man who she _knew_ she could rely on to keep Gohan safe was nowhere to be seen. She had wanted her husband to go out in search of their son, but now that Gohan was back, all Chi-Chi could think about was wanting Goku back.

She didn't care if he was a Saiyan. She didn't even care if a small part of him _wanted_ to return to that lifestyle. Because she knew he would return to her. He would do anything to keep his family safe. To keep this town safe, which he had clearly grown to love. If Frieza was such a horrible enemy for the Saiyans, Chi-Chi knew Goku would come back to protect them from Frieza as soon as he was capable.

Raising her gaze towards the colorful, clouded sky and walking with Gohan's hand in hers, Chi-Chi whispered to herself, "Come back soon, Goku."

* * *

Her eyes blinked rapidly as she found herself waking up in soft bedding, beneath a foreign, ruddy brow clay ceiling. The last thing Eighteen remembered, Cell had shot her and she was bleeding out on the forest floor. Now, she was mysteriously waking up on this mattress, with a roof over her head. Eighteen's hand flew to her waist in search of her wound. It was bandaged and bound. As her fingers drifted along the tattered material wrapped across her abdomen, she breathed quietly. She could hear voices carrying from outside. They were male voices, speaking a foreign language she couldn't understand. Eighteen narrowed her eyes at the curved ceiling as she debated whether she was healed enough to get up. She didn't want to disturb her wound, but she didn't want to lay there, vulnerable. Whoever brought her there couldn't have had bad intentions, seeing that they'd tended to her wound, but she still didn't trust them.

A light snore broke the silence, causing Eighteen to gasp as she shot her gaze to the other side of the room. There, in another small bed, she could see a man sleeping. A slight turn of his face in her direction confirmed that it was Goku, looking like deep in sleep. The lifeless draping of his arm off the edge of the bed and depth of his snore told her he was practically dead to the world. Good. That gave Eighteen time to herself to figure things out. After cracking her neck, Eighteen slowly sat up. That didn't feel _too_ bad. The crunching of her abdominal muscles was the worst part, but she could handle a little pain. Whatever these people had done to her, they seemed to have done a very good job. She was sure she lost a lot of blood from that gunshot wound, but she didn't feel the slightest bit light-headed or woozy. So with a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, into her boots awaiting beside it, and stood up.

Eighteen paced across the tiny, dome-shaped room. Hunger pains reminded her that it had been a while since she'd had anything to eat. She hadn't eaten anything since leaving West City. Whatever had happened after she lost consciousness, apparently Goku took a beating as well. Eighteen could see it just by looking at him. That wasn't surprising. The man had gone into the fight with Cell unarmed, like an idiot. The bruising on his face and shoulders exposed just above the thin blanket covering him proved as much. Huffing to herself, Eighteen turned her gaze away from the man snoring lightly below her. She needed to find out what happened. She needed to know if Cell was still after her. And she needed – no - she _wanted_ to know what happened to Krillin. Maybe _he_ was the reason she was still alive right now. She was sure Goku hadn't carried her to safety.

But she'd really like to know where she was right now. This seemingly safe place could be something else entirely. Especially with those foreign tongues carrying on around her. With her ears perked and eyes narrowed, Eighteen crept beside the small, oval-shaped window through which those voices were carrying. She snatched a piece of bread from the basket set on the table, which was apparently set out to feed them. She couldn't even question whether the food might've been tainted. She was too hungry at this point to care. Gnawing on the satisfying sustenance, Eighteen tried to peer out the window without being seen. Fortunately, when she poked her head out enough to get a good view, no one was within range of seeing her.

But she saw _them_. Namekians! Growling under her breath, Eighteen's eyes darted to Goku as she wondered what the hell she was doing with a Namekian tribe. Oh, right. Goku had mentioned something about that. She couldn't believe Krillin actually listened to him, though. This was insane. Now she was going to have to wake Goku. She couldn't get out of here unseen on her own, and she certainly didn't want to have an encounter with those Namekians in her condition without some backup if things went downhill.

"Hey." Eighteen kicked the bedframe, and then waited for Goku to wake up. "Hey!"

She kicked it again, harder this time when it was obvious that Goku was remaining in a deep sleep. Useless. With a grunt, she bent over Goku and grasped him by both shoulders, shaking him violently until his heavy lids slowly rose.

"Goku, wake up!" Eighteen glared at him as his drowsy, dark eyes lit on her face. "We need to get out of here."

"Eighteen?" Goku blinked. "Where-"

"No time for that. Get a move on."

Goku sat up, the blankets sliding down to reveal his bare chest and abdomen with a multitude of discolored bruises and healing scrapes, as well as bandages to match Eighteen's. At the reminder, Eighteen tugged her shirt down over the bandages as she made her way to the curtained doorway.

"Hey, uh," Eighteen could hear Goku's movements as he spoke, "what about Gohan and Krillin?"

Krillin.

Eighteen blinked. "What about 'em?"

Goku stood to his feet. "Have you seen 'em?"

" _Seen_ them?"

As Goku stretched, he could feel every bruise in his body aching, but he knew he was in much better shape than he'd been in when he came there. He was glad Gohan and Krillin brought them to the Namekians. He _knew_ they'd be good healers. Goku's eyes darted to the bedside table, where a basket of food was perched beside his neatly folded shirt. Goku reached for both of them before thrusting the shirt over his head and the food in his mouth as he turned his eyes on Eighteen. Seeing the way Eighteen seemed unaware of Gohan or Krillin's presence there, Goku began to worry, even as his grumbling stomach was satisfied with the delicious bread. By Eighteen's response and the look in her eyes as she looked his way, Goku could tell that she hadn't seen them. Maybe she hadn't even thought of those two being in the village. Maybe they weren't anymore.

Goku gasped. "They must've gone back to West City!"

"West City." Eighteen narrowed her eyes and pulled the woven curtain aside to glance out the door. "We need to get back there."

Outside, their horses were tied off, not too far from the doorway. Off to the other side, a young Namekian child was watering a patch of crops with an elderly male by his side. If they made a run for the horses, there was a good chance they could get out of there without being seen.

"Goku." Eighteen shot a glance over her shoulder when she was surprised by Goku sweeping past her.

Goku stepped through the curtain and waved to the nearby Namekians. "Thanks for your help! We have to go now. See ya!"

With her mouth agape, Eighteen stumbled out the door after Goku, eyeing the Namekians who slowly waved back at Goku with their brows furrowed in confusion.

"C'mon, Eighteen!" Goku yelled, his voice already distant from her. "Hurry!"

"Uh." Eighteen shook her head as the Namekian's eyes fell on her, but she withdrew her hand which had subconsciously traveled towards her trigger.

She turned around and ran, jumping over farming tools and through the uneven dirt terrain. She needed to get on that gray horse standing beside the one Goku had mounted, not so much because she worried about what the Namekians would do anymore. Goku's way had made it clear that the natives really intended them no harm. She couldn't waste her time worrying about what they would do. Now, she needed to hurry because she knew Krillin was in trouble.

"We need to leave _now_ , Eighteen!" Goku slapped his brown horse on the rear, kicking the animal into a running start.

Eighteen jumped on the gray horse, frazzling the animal into a hasty run as she yelled into its ears, "Yaa!"

When Eighteen's horse caught up to Goku's side, Goku cast her glare. "Krillin and Gohan have no idea what they're up against in West City."

Eighteen leaned forward to cling tightly to her horse in a full gallop. "Are we talkin' something worse than Cell?"

Goku flinched before looking over his shoulder with a hardening gaze. "Yeah, worse than Cell. We were able to kill Cell. Frieza…well I've seen plenty of people _try_."

Eighteen gasped. So Cell _was_ dead. That was a relief. It was also bittersweet, knowing she had nothing to do with it. She wanted to take her revenge for her brothers. But now, she knew that was never going to happen. However, knowing that she had been saved from Cell, that the same fate wouldn't befall her, made her feel better. Just knowing he _paid_ for what he did gave her relief. The more she thought about it, the more she realized just how much the sheriff actually cared about her. She never would've thought she'd meet anyone, aside from her brothers, who would've gone out of their way for her the way Krillin had.

"I just hope," Goku said, "they can hang in there until we get back to town."

Goku narrowed his eyes to look past the dense trees ahead of them. Bearing down on his borrowed horse to make it pick up speed, Goku grit his teeth and focused on the ride. He missed Kinto'un, but then it was reassuring, knowing Gohan took him. Goku still wondered what happened to Vegeta and Bulma. He hoped they'd made it back to town on their own – he could only rely on Vegeta's resilience. Bulma's too, if he really thought about it. They had to be all right.

At least Krillin and Gohan had to make it back to West City. There would've been no further obstacles keeping them from making it back safely, and Goku knew Krillin would've been looking out for Gohan. Goku had fulfilled his promise to Chi-Chi. But then there was no telling what was happening in West City. It wasn't exactly a safe place. With Frieza there, anything was possible.

* * *

A/N: For those of you who thought I forgot about this fic, I haven't. I just hadn't realized how long it's been since the last update! So sorry to keep you all waiting. This story is nearing the end now, and I've finished my other long story, so I'll be more on top of writing the rest of this one from here on. For my patrons, the next chapter will be available very shortly. I promise I won't go more than 2 months between updates again. Life has just been busy.


	16. Takin' This Place

When Frieza closed his eyes and pressed the curved glass to his lips, his mouth practically watered at the anticipated sensation of rich fruity flavors flooding his mouth. It had been so long since he'd truly indulged like this. West City was suiting him well, it seemed. The deputy was under his thumb at this point, those Saiyans were doomed to finally meet their overdue end, the townspeople were scared stiff, and the whores couldn't complain about what his men had to offer.

Yes, West City suited Frieza just fine.

It was too bad he'd be leaving it. As soon as he was assured that those Saiyans were truly dead and the Ginyus had done what they were hired to do, he and a select few of his men would be hightailing it out of West City, to greener pastures. But while he was here, he could enjoy the perks this town had to offer. Maybe he'd have more fun with the lawmen before he carted off to the next town to turn more profits.

As Frieza washed down his red wine, the click of a door handle drew a frown upon his face. Not even bothering to look over his desk to the opening door, Frieza swished the wine around his tongue and then sneered.

"Lord Frieza, forgive my intrusion."

"Don't tell me, Zarbon." Frieza rolled his eyes towards the figure in his doorway. "Have the men grown bored with Satan's whores?"

Zarbon snorted a laugh. Lord Frieza could be terrifying and intimidating, but at times like this, he was joyful company. The idea that he and the men had been tended to by "Satan's whores" these past few days had Zarbon tickled with amusement. Mark Satan was no _Satan_ , but his whores were really something else.

"Zarbon!"

Zarbon cleared his throat. "The whores are fine, my lord. The men have no complaints."

" _I_ do." Frieza narrowed his eyes as his frown deepened. "Where is my Ginyu force? We should have heard from them by now."

"Well," Zarbon pressed a balled fist to his glossy lips, keeping his eyes humbly fixed on Frieza's glare, "we may not have heard from them, but there's other news that brings me here now."

"Oh?" Frieza raised a skeptical brow. "And that is?"

Zarbon gulped. He'd had no hesitations about sharing this information earlier, but as he watched Frieza reach into his drawer, Zarbon's heart pounded in his chest. It wasn't until Frieza pulled a cigarillo and lighter from behind the desk that Zarbon felt he could breathe again.

While Frieza's cigarillo tip glowed red at the spark of the flame and his eyes narrowed with impatience, Zarbon licked his lips. "People just rode into West City from the wilds, but they're not the Ginyu Force."

"What?" The slender cigarillo drooped between Frieza's lips before he bit down on it and pounded a fist on his desk. "Send someone out there!"

"I already have, Lord Frieza." Zarbon issued a sly smile as he brushed a wisp of hair from his eyes. "Whatever happened in that wilderness, my men will find out."

"You get out there and find out yourself, Zarbon." Frieza bared his teeth as a puff of charcoal smoke swirled in front of his twitching eyes. "Don't leave my town in the hands of those idiots."

"Yes, Lord Frieza." Bowing his head, Zarbon backed out the doorway. "I'll find out exactly what happened to the Ginyu Force."

Frieza pinched his fingers around the cigarillo between his lips, plucking it loose with a pucker just before blowing out the smoke that swirled in his mouth and nostrils. It was a breath of relaxation, one he felt was much needed before he heard any more unsettling news. At the sound of a creak just outside his doorway, Frieza's lips pulled into a smirk.

When the floorboards audibly shifted again, he replaced the cigarillo in his mouth and raised his chin towards the open doorway. "Don't be scared, little one. I know you're out there. Do come in."

As he blew the smoke again, Frieza waited. Through the cloud of grey, Frieza watched a small head of pigtails bob through the frame of the open door, a stubborn glare featured on that adorable little face. "Frieza."

Frieza tittered, smashing the end of his cigarillo into his open palm. "That's _Lord_ Frieza, little girl. And what do you want, standing and eavesdropping in my doorway so rudely?"

Videl's eyes bulged as she watched the smoke snuff out in the bad man's hand, visibly burning his pale white skin which reddened around the cigar stick. He was making a point of showing it to her, of disgusting her with the act and the odor of burnt flesh that clung to the air. But Videl wasn't impressed. Any grown man who had to put on a show to intimidate a little girl was a loser. Her daddy told her about losers like this guy all the time. She was willing to bet her father could kill the guy in one shot, if given the chance. Maybe even Gohan and his savage could do it.

She missed Gohan. The thought of his long absence from town brought a frown to Videl's face. But she wiped away the frown, narrowing her eyes at Frieza, who was awaiting an answer to his question. The truth was, she didn't have a question for him. She didn't want anything from Frieza. She just wanted to know what was happening, what had the women at Champ's scared, what had her father so nervous, and why Gohan wasn't back yet. She thought she'd find out by listening to this guy. But she was wrong.

Studying the stubborn frown on the girl's face, Frieza sneered and reached for his wine. "You're a nosy little monkey, aren't you? What do you think _Daddy_ will say when you run home with bumps and bruises from having a tumble down my stairs on your way out?"

Videl furrowed her brows. "I'm not gonna fall down the stairs."

"You can never be too careful." Frieza raised his glass and gave the brat a sly smile. "My stairs are known to cause _many_ accidents. I suggest you don't come by here again, lest you want to be the next casualty."

Heaving a breath, Videl took a slow step back. But then watching the bully sip his wine with a smug smile, she clenched her jaw. She wasn't going to run away scared, not even from him. "If I ever have any accident here, my dad will blow your head off."

Frieza spat his wine into his glass, his eyes going wide as he swallowed and set the glass on his desk. When he turned his eyes on Videl, they were full of mirth. Forceful laughter erupted from his belly, drawing him to press a hand to his center. When he ended the laughter with a sigh, Frieza wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Videl tensed, not knowing what to expect from him.

"You _are_ amusing, little whore-house girl. I'll give you that."

"Champ's is _not_ a whore house. It's-"

Frieza waved a hand. "Yes, yes, I know. Carry on and get out of here. I've had enough of your whiny little voice."

Videl growled, nearly cutting her teeth into her bottom lip as she clenched her fists by her sides. But she knew there were more important things happening now than holding a stubborn fight against the guy taking over the town. She couldn't leave her father at the bawdry house for too long. And from what Frieza and that Zarbon guy said earlier, someone had just returned to West City. If Videl's intuition was right, it was Gohan. He had to be back. With the thoughts of seeing Gohan again, in spite of this jerk taking over her home and her town, Videl couldn't help grinning as she ran towards the stairs, carefully slowing just as she reached Frieza's steps, before heading out of the saloon.

* * *

Piccolo closely watched what was happening down the street as he walked through the center of town with the sheriff and deputy. Those armed men on the porch of Frieza's saloon were starting to move. Gohan and his mother were already off the street, thankfully, with the boy's grandfather following close behind them. It only had taken one sharp look from Piccolo for that dwarf with his cart of wares to turn tail and run into the West City Saloon for cover. Piccolo could easily have a clear shot on Frieza's men, now that the street was clearing. But he wasn't sure of their intentions. As far as Piccolo knew, Frieza had no reason to send his men to attack him. Maybe it was only the deputy and sheriff they were after.

"Hey, Krillin," Yamcha drawled, slowing his walking pace with his words, "what d'ya think they're…"

Yamcha drew his feet to a stop as Krillin cocked his head. When his spurs stopped rattling, Krillin's horse's indignant snort was the only sound in the otherwise quiet street. All of the other people of West City -gunmen, businessmen, defenseless innocents and the like- seemed to be tucked away within the bank, the hotel, the saloons, the small homes along the main street. The sun was kissing the horizon as sunset drew near, taking the heat with it and casting long shadows down the dusty street. Yamcha heard Krillin's hand slap his horse's hide before the animal galloped off, heading back where they came from, where they left the other horses. It was better for them to be loose, Yamcha supposed. He just hoped they wouldn't need those horses later.

Krillin was expecting to arrive in West City to find this Frieza and his men rambunctiously breaking up their town, fighting Yamcha and Tien, abusing the hard-earned businesses and homes their locals had worked for, tormenting the innocent people Krillin hadn't been there to defend. What he did _not_ expect was to return home and find it so dead-silent and frightening as the day was drawing to a close. With the hairs on his arms standing on end and a bad feeling churning in his gut, he decided he almost wished it to be the other way.

Looking towards Frieza's saloon, Krillin gulped. "Yamcha, do y'think they-"

"They sure as hell are." Piccolo patted the handle of his knife slung across his outer thigh. "Be ready."

"These guys are always acting tough." Yamcha shook his head, before peering at Frieza's men casually walking towards them in the middle of the street. "They like to try and scare me and Tien, but they never actually _do_ anything."

Krillin raised a brow as he tried to read the meaning behind the smiles on those men's faces. "Really?"

"Yeah, well," Piccolo grumbled, "this time is different."

"How can you be so sure, Piccolo?" Yamcha chuckled, though Krillin noted the uneasy quiver in his laugh. "I mean, no offense, but you've never been a lawman."

"Don't have to be a lawman to read the nature of men. Especially not to know when someone's ready to attack you."

"Oh, no." Krillin tensed the second he saw the tallest of the approaching men guiding his hand towards his leather holster. Piccolo was right.

"Shit," Yamcha breathed.

"Just leave the talking to me," Piccolo ordered under his breath as they drew near.

Krillin raised his brows at the taller man's back as Piccolo stepped forward, but Krillin followed, deciding Piccolo seemed like he knew what he was doing. If Krillin was being honest with himself, he still wasn't sure just _what_ was going on here, but when the time came, he wanted to be ready to do his part. He had to remain vigilant, keep alert of all of their surroundings while Piccolo found out what these guys wanted. He wished he knew more about what had been happening in his town while he was away.

"Don't worry, Krillin." Yamcha patted his shoulder lightly, the reassuring touch calming Krillin's nerves. "Between the three of us, these guys aren't going to get very far. Especially with someone like Piccolo on our side for a change."

"Yeah," Krillin muttered, "I only wish Goku was here. No offense, Piccolo, but I'd feel a lot safer with _him_ on our side."

"None taken." Piccolo smirked over his shoulder, finding the shocked expression on Krillin's face amusing. "I never said I was your friend."

Krillin blinked at the confounding look in Piccolo's eye. He wasn't sure if Piccolo was teasing or actually claiming to _not_ be a friend, but he was afraid to ask him to clarify that. From the town's history with the guy, Krillin was willing to bet Piccolo didn't consider himself a friend here. More likely, he considered himself a reluctant ally. Krillin didn't have time to ask about that anyway. Frieza's men were in earshot, tipping their hats and raising their chins towards Piccolo while keeping their hands free for action. With a grunt, Krillin set his jaw, sunk his boot heels in the dirt, and focused on the conversation at hand.

"What do you want?" Piccolo asked.

"Howdy," the tall man responded with a teasing smile, while one man behind him masticated on chew and the third narrowed his eyes at Yamcha.

Krillin was prepared to step forward and offer his hand to introduce himself appropriately, but Piccolo's earlier words ran through his mind, prompting him to stop himself and hold firm.

"Well," the tall man drawled, "not too friendly today, are ya? Deputy Puar, who're your friends here?"

Yamcha clenched his fists and bared his teeth, noting the obvious goading from these men, a tune he'd grown accustomed to over the past days. He knew they were bad news and not treating the civilians in this town right, but he and Tien did the best they could. With a guy like Frieza around, angering his men would only make matters worse for West City unless they could take down Frieza himself, along with his entire establishment. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and overpowered.

"My name is Piccolo." Piccolo stepped between Yamcha and the tall man, demanding the man's attention. "What's yours?"

"Hm." The man huffed in amusement, narrowing his eyes at Piccolo. "I ain't never seen a native so up-close. And what business do you have being here? Did you and your tribe kill the Ginyus?"

"Ginyus?" Piccolo laughed. "No."

He narrowed his eyes at the tall man who refused to give his name. The man might've refused to give information, but that didn't mean Piccolo couldn't get much out of him. Already, he knew this was about the Ginyus somehow. Frieza must've been waiting to hear back from them. He must've been growing anxious. Piccolo felt a smile tug at his lips.

The square-jawed man with chew spat his wad into the dirt and turned a sneer on Piccolo. "What're you smiling at?"

"Certainly not you."

"Yeah," the tall man drawled, pursing his lips and nodding, "you may not've killed the Ginyus, but you know somethin' 'bout what happened to 'em."

"I don't. Not really." Piccolo shrugged. "But I suspect they're dead out there somewhere. Just like that bounty hunter."

Yamcha blinked. "Cell's dead?"

Yamcha couldn't believe how much he'd missed out there. He didn't know where Goku was, or what happened to the Gero woman, or what was going on with the rest of the Namekians out there, though it was comforting to assume both the Ginyus and the bounty hunter were dead. Those guys were all bad business. He wouldn't want to have to worry about them, not with the troubles they already had staring them in the face with these guys.

"Shhh." Krillin gave his friend a confirming nod, but tried to keep focused on the other men.

Their trigger fingers were looking itchy. Krillin could tell Yamcha later about Cell and everything else that had happened outside of town. As the tall man finished exchanging a glance with the tobacco-chewer working his jaw side to side, Krillin grit his teeth. He could feel it, like electricity in the air. Things were about to go down. Guns would be blazing, men would be bleeding, and Krillin didn't know where he and Yamcha would end up in the middle of it all.

"You expect us to believe the Ginyus were killed by…what?" The tall man cocked his head. "Not natives, then… _Saiyans_?"

While Piccolo shrugged, Krillin glanced past the trio to see a long-haired man approaching from the new saloon with a greater presence than the others in the way he held his head and kept his broad shoulders pressed back. Krillin knew it was time to get serious, now that Zarbon was approaching.

With a sideways glance, Piccolo noticed the focus in the sheriff and deputy's eyes as they fixed their gazes past the other men. Whoever that man was back there with jewels on his head and a shotgun strapped to his back, he meant business. And Piccolo knew he wasn't getting anywhere talking with these morons. With a growl, he reached for his knife, drawing his weapon. Before the three men in front of him or the two men beside him could flinch, he'd already chucked the knife straight into the tall man's right eye. As blood spewed from the shredded eye and the tall man muttered and gurgled his last, incomprehensible words, the men beside him were drawing their weapons. But Piccolo was ready to fight them. He was prepared with his next move, but a gunshot exploded, causing him to stagger back into place just as he was about to lunge forward. He blinked at the bulging eyes of the tobacco-chewer, whose hand flew to his blood-soaked chest just before his trembling knees dropped to hit the brown dirt.

Ready for the third man, Yamcha fired his gun, its bullet whizzing through the narrow clear path between himself and his companions. Piccolo had taken out the first enemy and Krillin the second. Yamcha wasn't going to let himself be useless while he was out here. That third man had his gun pointed at Krillin, and a deputy who didn't defend his sheriff was no deputy at all. When the third man's mouth fell open, dribbling blood from the corner of his lip, Yamcha blew out his smoking pistol and spun it, preparing to shove it back in its holster.

"Yamcha, than-"

Krillin was cut off when another gunshot sounded, one Yamcha hadn't anticipated. As Zarbon stepped forward, his pistol still aimed for Yamcha's chest, Yamcha felt the clenching pain of a bullet lodging into his ribcage. He fell to his knees, hitting the dirt with a thud. As blood fell from his chest, tainting the brown dirt below him, the air felt as thick as molasses. With his lungs burning, he took a desperate, but futile gasp for air.

Krillin tore his eyes from the three bloody men dead and dying on his street to focus his attention on his wounded friend. Yamcha had to be all right. They had enough people dead, missing and dying in their town over the past few days. Krillin didn't know if he could handle his deputy, one of his closest friends, being taken from him now.

"Yamcha!"

Growling at the idiot sheriff turning his back on an armed enemy, Piccolo reached down for the handle of his knife embedded in its latest victim's eye, placed his moccasin on the man's red and swollen face, and ripped the knife from his skull. He needed it to fight this new man Frieza had sent, if that was his intentions. Judging by the way the jeweled-man's gait slowed and eyes fixed on Piccolo, Piccolo was fairly certain that the killing was done for now.

"You gentlemen aren't behaving very civilly in Lord Frieza's streets," Zarbon said as he drew to a stop over the corpses, just inches from the native holding a bloody knife in the air.

"Lord Frieza's streets?" Krillin glared over his shoulder, hesitating to lift Yamcha any further than he'd already started as he met Zarbon's gaze. " _I'm_ the sheriff of this town."

"Krillin," Piccolo kept his gaze fixed on the jeweled man, "get Yamcha out of here. I'll deal with this guy."

" _This_ guy?" Zarbon frowned and pressed a palm to his leather vest while the sheriff grunted and struggled to get the injured deputy to his feet. " _This guy_ is Lord Frieza's top advisor, Midori Zarbon. And you are?"

"Piccolo Daimao."

"Well, I suppose there's hope yet that we can teach natives the art of civility."

"Piccolo! Here!" Krillin tossed something dense and shiny into Piccolo's responsive free hand effortlessly snatching the pistol from the air without Piccolo removing his gaze from Zarbon. "Take this. You might need it."

Piccolo frowned at the curved metal in his hand. He'd never had any use for such a clunky weapon, but he supposed any cards he could hold now were for the better. Tucking the weapon into his rawhide vest, he watched from the corner of his eye as Krillin dragged the limping deputy to the nearest shelter with an arm secured around his shoulder. He hoped Krillin knew where to take the deputy. A man with an injury like that wouldn't last long untreated. From the way Yamcha wheezed, Piccolo could tell the bullet had punctured a lung. But his main focus was on the pompous man standing in front of him, insulting him to his face, as if he was actually going to rattle Piccolo.

"Tell me what it is that you want," Piccolo demanded. "Why did Frieza send you out here?"

"Hm," Zarbon hummed, "you're a get-to-the-point type of man, I see. You see, Lord Frieza and those Saiyans have a history that goes way back…"

* * *

When Videl arrived home, it was as if chaos erupted in Champ's. Her father greeted her before she'd made it through the door, sweeping her into his arms and slamming the door closed behind her. Videl felt like she could cry, and she didn't even know why. But between the sounds of women screaming and crying upstairs, the pops of gunfire she'd heard outside seconds before, the sound of a man in Champ's yelling vile words and slamming things around, and her father trembling as he held her in his arms, she knew something very bad was happening. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"Daddy!"

"Videl, don't argue with me, Sweetheart." Mark held his daughter at arm's length, looking into her beautiful, blue teary eyes. "Daddy needs you to get in the closet and hide. Don't leave that spot, no matter what! You hear me?"

"Daddy!" Videl shook her head to refuse, but her father was already opening the narrow closet door by the entryway. "Daddy, what's going on?"

"No time to explain, Sweetheart." Mark pushed Videl into the cocoon of soft fur coats and closed the door on the irritated face of his little girl. "I need to go deal with those men upstairs."

When the door clicked shut, Mark turned to the kitchen table to resume loading his gun as he had been doing. He was thankful for the interruption, though. Nothing was rattling his nerves worse than not knowing where Videl ran off to. At least with her safe, it was easier for him to work up the courage to pull a gun on one of these men. He had to do it, for his women, and for Videl.

With his gun propped up in his hand, elbow tucked to his side, Mark approached his staircase. He could hear the man up there, still rattling off vulgar insults to the unfortunate woman he'd been slapping around since the gunfire outside began. If Launch was up there, Mark knew she'd have shown them a thing or two by now. But she was still struggling for her life down at the old Capsule Hotel. Mark was on his own here with a bunch of women who didn't know a thing about fighting, and a scared little girl who didn't belong in the mix of any of this.

With a deep breath, Mark made his way up the stairs, his finger trembling at the trigger. He willed himself to steady his hand, but the closer he got, the louder those shouts grew, and the more his body fought against him.

"Mr. Satan," hissed a young lady whose eyes were the first to land on him.

She was half-naked with her long blonde curls draped over her bare chest, crouched in the corner at the top of the stairs, with her eyes puffy with tears and her body turned towards the door which was the source of the noise. Mark waved her down with his free hand, desperately willing her to shush. If that bastard came outside because he knew Mark was out there, Mark knew he'd fail miserably. He'd never been up against men like these. And he didn't want to get shot today.

When Mark reached the door, he hesitated. The silence in the dark upstairs hall was broken when a sudden bang against that door rattled the entire thing, nearly turning the knob just from the sheer force of the collision happening on the other side. Mark jumped, quickly composing himself when the scared blonde gasped, reminding him that he had an audience. He slicked his curly hair back and raised his chin, preparing to open that door. He knew it was Maron in there now, judging by the voices, and he would not stand aside and let one of his women be hurt. In a moment of insanity, he pushed the door open with all his might, pointing the gun forward as a scream sounded from outside the window and his eyes lit on the disastrous bedroom. Mark blinked, needing to spy his enemy before he got the jump on him. But the only person he could see was Maron, crouched behind the bed with her bare shoulders exposed beneath her long tangle of blue hair, her tear-soaked, bruised face looking back at him in awe, and her bloody lip twitching at the corner.

"Mr. Satan?"

"Maron," keeping his hand steady on the gun, Mark raised a brow and looked around the room, "you okay?"

"Mr. Satan, you did it!"

As Maron threw herself into his arms, Mark dropped his gun to his side. "I did?"

"I knew you'd save me. You wouldn't let that mean old bastard keep beating on me."

"O-of course not, honey. You know you're my favorite girl."

Maron let out a breathy noise into his chest, somewhere between a cry and a giggle, and Mark just stood there, letting her hug him. His gaze remained fixed straight ahead as he tried to process what happened. The wind blew from outside, sending the red lace curtain dancing into the room as Mark furrowed his brows further. There was no trace of a man in that room, but he knew he wasn't just imagining things when he heard that deep, rumbling voice insulting Maron with one slur after another.

"Is…everything okay now," came another voice from the doorway. "Is he gone?"

Maron loosened her grip on Mark to see who was talking. As she peered past Mark's broad chest, Maron smiled at the new girl, whose name she couldn't remember. It was a scare, having men like that around losing their tempers. But she wasn't going to let it get her down. She was, and would continue to be, one of the best whores in West City.

The girl's questioning blink made Maron nod and smile. "Yes, he's gone. Mr. Satan knocked the prick right out the window!"

As Maron laughed and the other woman's eyes bulged before she joined in, Mark scratched his head. Then he joined them. It appeared he _was_ capable of defending his women, even from big tough guys like Frieza and his gun-practiced men.

"Yeah! Champ's is _my_ bawdry house!" Mark laughed. "No more of Frieza's men allowed!"

As the other girl wiped her tears away and clapped her hands together, Maron hugged Mark tighter, feeling safe in his arms. "Yay, Mark!"

The celebration upstairs sounded like good news from behind Videl's closed closet door. She knew her father had ordered her not to leave it, but now knowing that her family was safe, and her father was safe, she really needed to know what was happening to Gohan. Because something bad was happening outside. She knew she heard gunshots. Videl opened the door, turning the knob as quietly as she could. She knew her father couldn't hear her from upstairs, but she hoped he wouldn't even see the door swinging open from the top of the stairs. She would return to her hiding place _after_ she made sure Gohan was all right. With her jaw set, Videl grabbed a stick which had been propped against the wall and slipped out the front door of the bawdry house, into the main street of West City.

* * *

A/N: This story is getting so close to the end! The next chapter is already available on p atreon, while I'm working on the one to follow it. After those two, there will only be a couple more left. I'd like to thank my patrons for helping me produce these chapters as quickly as possible, and reviewers for motivating me to keep this story going.


	17. Grab Your Weapons

Tien paced the room, past the beds filled with healing patients, listening for more gunshots. They had quieted by now, but there was no denying what he'd just heard. He wanted to go out there and help. He was sure Frieza, Zarbon and their men were behind the commotion happening out there. His eyes turned to the unconscious patient in bed, then to Bulma in a chair beside him, and then back to the sleeping intruder. That Saiyan had insulted this town enough by robbing its bank, kidnapping one of its people (or two if he considered Goku an unwilling hostage), and leading a man like Frieza to their town. The easiest way to put an end to all of this would be to turn Vegeta in to Frieza. Given the Saiyan's condition, it would be easy enough.

Watching Tien pace the room from her vantage point at Launch's bedside, Chi-Chi sighed and massaged her aching head. She rubbed Gohan's back as his voice brought her comfort, but the feverish sensation overcoming her was hard to ignore. She'd been off the laudanum for some time now and she could tell its effects were wearing off. But she would be strong. She wouldn't show her discomfort to her son, who she was so relieved to have by her side again. She had to be strong for him now. She had to be strong for Goku, whenever he came back.

"Mom," Gohan angled his head away from Launch's bleary-eyed gaze, "do you have some more juice?"

"Juice?" Chi-Chi blinked, before setting her eyes on the packed case she'd brought to the Capsule Hotel with plenty of supplies. "Yes, there should be some right here."

As his mother stood to reach for the pack, Gohan looked at Launch again. He was surprised to see her staring back at him. He flinched, and blinked, but Launch's gaze only softened as she continued staring straight at him, remaining silent. He didn't know the lady too well. His parents never allowed him to talk to those ladies at Champ's, or go anywhere near the place. It was one of the reasons he hadn't had a chance to befriend Videl before. But now that he had, he was wondering about her. He wanted to know what had happened in West City while he was away, and if Videl stayed put like he'd asked her to. Launch was the closest connection he had to her right now.

"Miss Launch," Gohan gulped when Launch grunted in response, "I'm sorry you were hurt."

Her lip pulled into a wide smile. "Ehh, this ain't nothin', Sweetie. I've taken far worse than a bullet from men before."

Gohan blinked. He had no clue how Launch could've had worse than a bullet. She looked like she was on her deathbed, lying there with the blankets over her bound wounds, a layer of perspiration over the sickly pallor of her skin, her long blond curls clinging to her forehead and neck. But by the smile on her face, Gohan would've thought she was perfectly fine. She almost looked ready to fight someone again.

"Umm," Gohan pressed his fingers together. He didn't want to sound disrespectful, asking about someone else when Launch was in such bad shape. He even felt like it was prying, asking about someone in her household. It really wasn't any of his business. He knew his mother wouldn't approve.

"Spit it out," Launch grumbled.

Gohan gasped. "Well, b-before you were hurt, did you-have you seen…Videl?"

"Videl?" Launch raised a brow. "Satan's kid?"

Gohan nodded. "Yeah."

"Ohhh," Launch's smile reappeared as one eye closed in a deliberate wink, " _someone_ fancies the little lady. I knew she wouldn't keep pushin' you boys away with that tomboy attitude for long, not with _her_ pretty face."

"Miss Launch," Gohan hissed, glancing at his mother turning from the case with a cool, clean glass and napkin in hand, "please. I'm just her friend. I want to make sure she's okay."

Launch's eyes traveled to follow Gohan's gaze, and with an understanding nod, she turned her eyes back on Gohan and lowered her voice. "I ain't seen her in a while, Sugar. But to be honest, if I know that girl, she can hold her own. The only thing I'd worry about is her goin' out _lookin'_ for trouble."

" _Who's_ goin' out lookin for trouble?"

Gohan tensed at his mother's voice, grimacing at Launch, who frowned back as his mother retook the seat beside him and presented the glass of juice to Launch.

Launch took the glass, shooting Chi-Chi a stubborn frown. "Me. Hey, Doc!"

When Launch craned her neck towards the doctor and his wife standing near the doorway, having a private discussion, Chi-Chi frowned. She cast Gohan a suspicious glance, but his attention was on the Briefs already. She couldn't help thinking Gohan and the injured prostitute were discussing something her son didn't want her to hear. She knew her son too well to miss the signs that he was hiding something.

"Doc," Launch repeated, drawing Dr. Brief to stutter out of his conversation and turn his gaze on her, "when am I gettin' out of this bed? There's gunfire goin' on out there, Doc! Tien's rarin' to go. I can't let 'im leave without me!"

"M-Mr. Shinhan?" Dr. Brief blinked at the quiet, yet intense man facing the window with arms crossed and a frown on his face. "Is that true? Is someone shooting out there?"

Tien's bald head slowly shook side to side. "Not anymore. But they were."

"What?" With a gasp, Chi-Chi shot to her feet. "Could it be my Goku? Do you think he's back?"

"Possibly."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

As a throaty chuckle followed the deep voice drawing gasps from most of the people in the room, Bulma's eyes flitted open. She thought she'd heard Vegeta's voice waking her from her rest, but that wasn't possible. That bullet wound was bound to keep him out for a long time. Yet, when she focused on the bed in front of her, and the man lying in it, his focused eyes were looking right at her.

Bulma gasped. "Vegeta!"

Vegeta smirked weakly. "Kakarot _would_ be coming back in the middle of gunfire."

"Why, you," Chi-Chi growled, diving across the narrow gap between the two beds, nearly toppling over Bulma as she reached for Vegeta with Bulma's hands seizing hers just short of grabbing his throat, "you and Goku's brother and whoever else was with you took my baby from his home!"

"You mean Kakarot," Vegeta grinned, "I guess he _is_ a baby, in a lot of ways."

"Chi-Chi, please!" Bulma had to use all her power to keep the other woman from strangling the man whose life she was trying to save.

"Bulma, why are you protecting him," Chi-Chi growled as Tien reached around her shoulders and drew the thrashing woman towards the wall.

Bulma frowned when she looked into Chi-Chi's eyes and saw the pain on her friend's face. Mrs. Son hadn't been a _very_ close friend of hers before this all began, but Bulma didn't wish any of this on Chi-Chi. It wasn't fair, what happened to her and her family. But her son, Gohan was back now, and safe. And if Bulma knew Goku, he was coming back, too. Not just coming back, but coming back prepared to take out this Frieza who Vegeta found so threatening, and to take their town back. Bulma turned her frown down on Vegeta. The Saiyan was clenching his teeth, obviously in pain, though he was fighting, trying not to show it. Bulma had to admit, Chi-Chi posed a good question. Bulma didn't have any rational reason that she _should_ have wanted to protect Vegeta. He was a danger to them all and a risk to keep around. He would probably betray them the moment he had a chance. He also, in his current, injured state, was no good to Bulma. He couldn't be used for protection now, as he had been in the wilderness.

"Mrs. Son's right, Miss Brief," Tien added, clenching his fingers around Chi-Chi's stilling shoulders. "That man has been nothing but a menace to this town. If Lord Frieza's here because of him, we should just hand him over and be rid of them all."

Vegeta barked a laugh, which quickly ended when he clutched his shoulder and dropped his head back on his pillow. Only quiet reverberations followed as Bulma gnawed her bottom lip and watched the hint of pain on Vegeta's face. He would never admit there was more to that face than physical pain, but he was scared. And he was alone now. The closest thing he had left to family was probably Goku, and it was clear to Bulma _they_ didn't get along. In spite of his hardness, his cruelty, and his stubborn resistance to showing any emotion, Vegeta had feelings. He could care, if someone gave him a chance. Bulma knew she didn't have any rational reason that she should have wanted to protect Vegeta, but she did have an _irrational_ reason. And selfish as it might be, she wasn't going to ignore her feelings.

"Yes, go ahead," Vegeta snorted, "turn me over to Frieza. That'll solve _all_ your town's problems."

"Maybe not all of them," Tien insisted, "but it'll solve something."

"Really?" Bulma pressed a finger to her lips and spun on her heels to face Tien. "I don't think it will. Judging by the way the Saiyans talked about Frieza, I don't think he'll let it go that easy just because we hand over _one_ of the Saiyans. And what about the Ginyus he sent? Not to mention, Frieza's after Goku too, y'all."

Chi-Chi's shoulders drooped as she exchanged a worried glance with Gohan. "Oh."

Vegeta snickered through his teeth, his eyes closed as he laid in the bed. At least one person in this town had some sense. That woman was a survivor, especially for someone who was untrained in fighting and otherwise weak. Vegeta couldn't wrap his head around being impressed by such a person. Usually the only people to impress him were efficient killers like Frieza and naturally skilled gunmen like Kakarot. This woman was the first to impress him who _hadn't_ taken a shot at him.

"There's no need for you all to discuss this anyhow." Dr. Brief raised his hands in the air and panned his gaze across the crowd. "My patients aren't going anywhere. They both need more time to heal."

"Aw," Launch grumbled, "dammit."

Vegeta scoffed through his teeth, but rolled over in bed, turning his back on everyone. Staying in bed while Frieza was out there was a joke. He would be asking for his death by remaining in this vulnerable position. But the doctor was right that he wasn't ready to fight yet, at least not at his peak ability, and Frieza was not someone he wanted to fight when he wasn't at his best. This situation was bullshit. But he'd encountered worse in the course of his hard life.

A warm, soft hand on Vegeta's shoulder made his eyes snap open. "Sorry, Vegeta. You'll have to stay put. But no one's going to let Frieza know you're here as long as I have any say. And don't worry. Goku will take care of that guy when he comes back to West City. I know he will."

Vegeta knit his brows, feeling a twinge of pain not only from his injuries, but from Bulma's words. The sincerity and trust in her voice when she spoke of Kakarot was like something he'd never heard before. Sure, his men trusted him to kill anyone who threatened them, but they never trusted him like _that_. Vegeta found it hard to believe that Kakarot had won over these people's trust in the few short years he'd been there. But Kakarot always did have something about him that drew people to him. As much as Vegeta hated Kakarot's guts, he had to admit that he saw it, too. Kakarot was impressive in a shootout and out of the path of danger. Vegeta didn't like that _Bulma_ noticed that about Kakarot. And that bothered him. Because he'd never really cared about anyone else's opinion before. But here he laid, feeling inexplicably wounded by hers.

"Help!"

After a door slammed outside their room, Bulma gasped and looked around at everyone else's equally clueless and concerned expressions, while her father threw open the door, exposing them to the potential danger or even enemies that could be out there.

Bulma slapped a hand to her face. "Dad!"

"Oh," her father leaned out the doorway, "it's the sheriff!"

"Krillin?" Tien stepped forward, lunging across the room.

"And Deputy Puar."

Tien grit his teeth as his eyes set on the doorway. He knew this had to be it. The start of the fight that was going to leave a mark on West City's history forever. He just hoped he wasn't too late to jump into the action. He already felt bad, hearing Krillin's repeated call for help as the doctor stepped aside and Mrs. Brief on the other side held the door wide open for the incoming rush of footsteps. Not hearing Yamcha's voice wasn't a good sign. Someone was hurt. And whatever was going on out there, it wasn't over.

"He's been shot," Krillin panted as he rushed through the door, dragging his unconscious and bleeding friend in his arms.

"Oh!" Dr. Brief swept an arm across a cluttered table, knocking the medicines and foods to the ground with a noisy clutter and the production of a few spills. "Here. Put him here, Sheriff."

Tien raced forward to help. Since Krillin already had Yamcha by the shoulders, Tien grabbed his legs. By the time they had their friend on the table, the women already had supplies gathered and were running to their sides, Chi-Chi with clean water and towels, and Bulma with her father's instruments.

Krillin heaved a few breaths, leaning heavy on the table. "I think he got it in the lung."

"A bullet," Dr. Brief guessed as he squinted to examine Yamcha's wounded chest.

"Yeah," Krillin nodded, "Frieza's men took up arms out there. Piccolo's facing them now."

"Piccolo!" Gohan gasped, his eyes going wide.

He couldn't keep hiding in there, not when he knew his father was due to return. Not when Videl was out there somewhere. And especially not when Piccolo was on his own, facing a group of men with a reputation for being violent and fierce. Gohan knew enough about the Saiyans now to know anyone who they found dangerous wasn't someone you wanted to face alone. He looked to his mother, who was scrambling to apply pressure to Yamcha's wounds with the moist white towels in her blood-soaked hands. His frown deepened as he took in the lovely features of her face, the face he always liked to see when he needed comfort. He was going to upset her now. But Gohan knew what he had to do.

"You've got to get it out, Dad!" Bulma scurried around the table, delivering the sharp, shiny silver tool for the job to her father. "He's not breathing too well."

"Miss Brief," Krillin froze, his eyes bulging as he suddenly noticed her there, "when-how did you get back to West City?"

Bulma waved him off. "It's a long story, Krillin. One I don't have time for!"

When she turned to dart for the alcohol, she bumped into something. But that something was warm and skirted out of her way with a mutter of apology. Scrunching her brows at the young boy looking for her attention, Bulma reached for the alcohol on the side table, and then turned to put it in her father's hand. Then, raising a brow and looking around the chaotic room, she knelt down to Gohan's level.

"What is it, Gohan?"

"If my mother asks," Gohan clenched his jaw, "can you tell her I had to pee?"

Bulma raised a brow. "You had to pee?"

As Gohan nodded with an evasive gaze, Bulma drew in a long breath. Now she knew why Gohan was coming to her instead of his mother. The kid wasn't looking for permission to pee. He was looking for permission to head out _there_. He knew his mother wasn't going to give it. Bulma didn't want to step in where it wasn't her place. And Yamcha's wounds needed her help. But when she saw the sorrowful look in Gohan's eyes, she found it really hard to say no to that adorably pouty face.

She frowned. "Gohan…"

"Please, Bulma. You don't have to say anything. Just don't tell her. I can't leave Piccolo alone out there."

Bulma furrowed her brows. "You really care about him?"

Gohan's nod was firm this time, and his gaze direct. He looked so much like his father. Whenever Goku set out to do something serious, he had the same exact look on his face. Bulma couldn't tell him no, even if she wanted to. She just hoped the kid would be all right out there.

"Bulma, where's that needle and thread?"

At her father's voice, Bulma grunted and gave Gohan a nod, before rising to her full height. She had a job to do, a deputy to save. With the curved spool of thread and smooth needle in her hand, Bulma turned to her father, setting her eyes on Yamcha. As her father pried the tools from her fingers, Bulma realized she hadn't thought of Yamcha as her beau, just the deputy and her friend. Even as he laid with his eyes darting rapidly behind his closed eyelids, his handsome face coated in a layer of cold sweat, and his shirt peeled back to reveal his toned, bleeding chest, Bulma didn't feel the same way as the last time she set eyes on Yamcha. She needed him to live now not for her, but for himself. Yamcha had to survive this and fulfill all his dreams, whatever those might be, even if they wouldn't include her. Maybe it was because of everything she'd been through recently, facing life or death situations, realizing there was more to life than settling with what was right in front of her. As she caught a glimpse of Gohan slipping through the door through which Krillin had come, Bulma let out a sigh and turned a concentrated gaze on her father's stitching.

Krillin's gaze lifted from the needle piercing his friend's flesh beside the gushing bullet wound and mounds of towels to catch a glimpse of Bulma. She was turning her gaze from the open doorway behind him with a wistful look in her eyes. Krillin furrowed his brows and gave Yamcha's knee a pat. He'd done his part for his friend. He was of no use now. And with Launch grumbling off to one side of the room about being confined to her bed, and that Saiyan laying in the other bed with his back to Krillin, Krillin wasn't sure he wanted to stick around the hotel for long. Besides, as his gaze panned the room again, spying Chi-Chi, Dr. Brief, and Mrs. Brief all working alongside Bulma to make Yamcha comfortable, Krillin noticed Gohan was missing. Gohan!

With a gasp and a swipe of something he suspected he'd need, Krillin fled the room. He immediately spied Gohan down the hall, hurrying right for the front door of the hotel, leading to the main street. He couldn't believe that kid. Goku would probably have a fit if he knew his best friend just let his kid run into danger (not to mention, his mother back in the other room would kill Krillin for allowing this to happen). He had to stop the kid.

"Gohan!"

Gohan froze, his shoulders stiffening before he slowly turned to face Krillin. "She…riff?"

"Gohan." Shaking his head, Krillin approached Gohan with his hands on his hips. "What are you doing?"

"Sheriff Krillin," Gohan said with a stubborn frown, "Piccolo's alone out there. I have to go."

"Hold it." Krillin seized Gohan by the shoulder, noting the boy heaved an impatient breath. "Not without me, you won't."

As Krillin smiled, Gohan turned a stunned smile on him. "Really?"

Krillin reached for the gun he'd grabbed off Yamcha's vest, spun it in the air, and handed it by the holster towards Gohan. "You know how to use this?"

Gohan smiled as he reached for it. "My dad taught me."

"Oh. Well, then what do y'say, Partner? You ready to see what's going on out there?"

Gohan took a deep breath, letting it out as he fervently nodded his head. "Yes."

"But we're going to lay low," Krillin warned. "No need to draw attention."

"Right."

When Krillin reached the solid wood door to the outside, he ran his hand against its flat surface, closing his eyes and gathering his nerve before going out there. It had stayed quiet for an awfully long time between Zarbon and Piccolo. Krillin hoped it was just because they were talking. Piccolo seemed to be good at that. What Krillin hoped not to see out there was more of Frieza's men surrounding Piccolo, but he knew that was too much to ask for.

When Krillin cracked the door open, just enough to let Gohan slide through before Krillin followed, Gohan absorbed his surroundings with wide eyes. The sky had turned multicolored, all pinks, oranges, and purples blurring together past the wooden awning above the hotel's entryway. Gohan stepped quietly, careful not to make the rickety floor boards creak below him, though he could hear Krillin's footsteps shadowing his. Once his gaze panned across the sky and noticed the creeping darkness and prevalence of shadows, Gohan's gaze darted to the middle of the street, where Piccolo stood at the ready, facing a strange man with a foreign style and gun in his hand. Piccolo was okay. They seemed to be talking. It wasn't just the two of them out there, though. There were a lot of men gathered around Piccolo. It looked like he was surrounded.

"Oh, no," Krillin muttered.

"Krillin?" Gohan whispered.

Krillin gulped. "More of Frieza's men are out here. Gohan, even if we _want_ to help Piccolo, we don't have enough bullets for all these guys."

Gohan heaved a breath and gnawed his bottom lip as he ducked behind a wooden column, tucking himself out of sight before any of Frieza's men decided to pry their eyes from Piccolo and the other guy's exchange. A dash of movement across the street, in front of his grandpa's bank caught Gohan's eye just as he was about to ask Krillin what they should do next. He stared in that direction, at first seeing nothing but a wastebarrel, a closed door, and a horse tied off at the gap between that building and the next one. It wasn't until he was just about to turn his gaze away that something popped into view again, from behind the wooden barrel. Gohan's eyes bulged when he recognized the bright blue eyes, shining even in the dim lighting now clouding his vision. A gust of wind blew, drawing a tumbleweed to cross the path between them as Videl smiled back at Gohan. He wanted to wave, but didn't dare possibly draw attention to himself and Sheriff Krillin that way. Videl had to know he saw her. At least she seemed to be safe. For now.

Krillin's eyes darted from Gohan to the young girl ducking behind the barrel across the street. He wondered what was wrong with kids these days. He never would've been out here if he had the chance to be back in the safety of the Capsule Hotel, away from gunfire, helping the others. He hoped they'd all be all right in there. Aside from that Saiyan maybe. With a glance down the long street, away from the men gathering around Piccolo, Krillin also wondered where Eighteen and Goku were. They couldn't be taking _that_ much longer to ride back to town.

"If you're not going to tell us where the Saiyans are," the raised voice drew Krillin to gasp and nearly stumble off-balance as he looked at Zarbon, "then I suppose we're done with you."

As the low rumble of Piccolo's reply carried in the wind, Krillin inched forward and readied his gun. "This is it, Gohan."

Krillin barely heard Gohan's grunt of reply before the first pop of a gun sounded from the balcony overlooking Piccolo's position from the saloon. The dirt sprayed just behind Piccolo's pant leg as Piccolo ran for cover with his gaze fixed on Zarbon. Gritting his teeth, Krillin aimed his gun for the man shooting at Piccolo from above, knocking him off the balcony in one well-aimed shot for the shooter's kneecap. Pops sounded like fireworks as Krillin's eyes darted frantically around at all the men moving in on Piccolo. Piccolo was holding his own from alongside a building, behind a trough where horses no longer stood to block his way, but he wasn't going to last long there, especially not with one gun and a knife. This wasn't good. Krillin set his aim on the next man he saw ready to take a shot at Piccolo.

When a man in his peripheral vision moved towards the barrel across the street, Krillin gasped. He shot off a round at the gunman he was already aiming for, and only seconds later turned his gun on the man across the street. With his teeth clenched and hand shaking, he squeezed off another round, feeling relieved when the casing flew from his gun and the man across the street stumbled back, his head sporting a red wound in the cheek that had come out the other side.

As Krillin turned to aim for more with a growl, he regretted the fact that the girl had to see this. He didn't even like Gohan being out here. Gohan wasn't shooting yet, but Krillin figured the kid wasn't ready. Krillin couldn't blame him. The problem was, Krillin was down to his last two, or maybe his last bullet. He couldn't take Gohan's gun. Gohan was going to need that. They were like sitting ducks out there. Krillin's heart wrenched, even as he remained in the action, watching the men close in on Piccolo. He never imagined this would happen in West City.


	18. Banding Together

Goku's heart was racing as the gallop of his horse's hooves continued their frantic pace, breaking out of the wilderness and across the sandy desert towards the town. He could hear gunshots coming from within the rows of buildings, echoing through the valleys. Something had gone terribly wrong in West City. He knew this was coming with Frieza being there, but he'd hoped it wasn't going to happen before they arrived. He didn't want to turn onto Main Street to find they were too late.

"How's your ammo?"

At the sound of Eighteen's voice and the whir of her pistol's chamber spinning, Goku snapped his gaze to the rider beside him. Glistening sweat trickled down Eighteen's temple as she pocketed the gun forcefully. She rose with her gaze set straight ahead, supporting all her weight in her heels strapped in the saddle. By the determined look on her face, she was waiting for an answer.

"Fully loaded. Eighteen-"

"Don't worry. I won't cause you any trouble."

Goku winced as his horse's gallop jostled him. "I wasn't going to-"

"You shouldn't trust me." She cast Goku a sidelong glance, a smirk on her face. "I don't expect you to. The only reason I'm going into this shitstorm is for Krillin. He's going to need help."

Goku frowned. "Yeah. With Frieza, he needs all the help he can get."

The horses slowed as Eighteen pulled on the reins along with Goku, leaning back in her saddle. She honestly didn't trust Goku much, either. She'd never trusted anyone who wasn't her family. That practically left her alone now. A part of her wanted to trust Krillin, but she needed to get through this gunfight before considering indulging in that temptation. If there was one thing she knew well, it was how to survive. That's just what she was going to do.

Goku frowned as he turned from watching the pensive frown on Eighteen's face to the brown, wood-framed buildings coming into view. The jolting noises of gunshots hadn't stopped. They were coming louder and quicker now. Thinking that his friends could be in danger - his _family_ could be in danger, he wanted to race right in there and start shooting. But with Frieza around, he had to think this through. He wished he knew exactly where everyone was – who was safe, who was on the streets, who might still be in the wilderness. But he didn't know any of that. All he knew was that Frieza and his men were there somewhere, and so were the innocent people of West City who didn't have a fighting chance of getting away.

Eighteen grew silent as she slowed her horse, peering around the corner of the building where stray bullets flew through the street, sending splinters of wood and specs of dirt flying into the air. At her flank, Goku had drawn to a stop, looking deep in thought for a change. Eighteen appreciated that. She didn't want to be stuck doing damage control because he decided to run in there with guns blazing. She slid off her horse before weaving her way to the nearest wall, where she planted her back against the surface and raised her gun. With a grunt, she poked her head out, only to recoil with a gasp as a bullet ricocheted off the building just inches from her head. With a sideways glance, she could see the wood splintered by the impact of the bullet.

"It looks like they're going after Piccolo."

At the surprising closeness of Goku's voice, Eighteen flinched before looking down to see him crouched with his head brazenly poked out from behind cover, his eyes narrowed at the scene she couldn't see.

"Piccolo?" Eighteen asked. "What's _he_ doing here?"

"I see Gohan and Krillin!" Goku jumped to his feet.

Eighteen was quick to grab him by the shoulder and throw him into the wall. "Listen, you. We're not running in there like idiots."

Goku's eyes narrowed. "I thought you cared about Krillin."

Eighteen felt a lump form in her throat at the thought of something horrible happening to Krillin before she made her way out there, but she shook off the uncomfortable sensation, baring her teeth at Goku. "If we move now, we'll both end up dead. How does _that_ help him?"

"How does standing here?" Goku seethed, before swatting Eighteen's hand aside. "Get out of the way."

Goku bolted past Eighteen, running into the street, raising his gun as his eyes absorbed all the chaos surrounding him. Men were dead on the streets, some laid bleeding and groaning, and even more were alive and well, positioned throughout the town, firing at multiple targets. Goku's eyes were immediately drawn to those targets, which thankfully, didn't yet include him.

He saw Piccolo crouched behind a trough, returning fire to the men aiming at him from a newly-constructed balcony. Zarbon was there, using the cover of the others' fire to draw near Piccolo while Piccolo was distracted. Goku ran through the street, wanting to call out and warn Piccolo. Zarbon was reaching into his holster with a triumphant smile on his face, which Piccolo didn't seem to notice. But then Piccolo whirled on Zarbon so fast that even Goku stopped dead in his tracks and gasped. The unsuspecting henchman didn't have a chance, reacting with a cry as he drew his pistol, but the blast of Piccolo's weapon went off before Zarbon could shoot. Zarbon lurched, coughing blood as his eyes went wide and he staggered back.

Piccolo tried to shoot again, cursing in his native language when the damn pistol reacted to his demand with a hollow click. The piece of shit was empty, and Piccolo could see from the corner of his eye that the wide-eyed boy with the sheriff across the way was alarmed by this. Growling his fury, Piccolo reached for the knife at his thigh as Zarbon pointed his gun with a wicked curling of his bloody lips.

"Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan shot to his feet.

Gohan could see Piccolo's gun was empty, and now Frieza's man was about to shoot! There were still bullets flying toward them. At Gohan's side, Krillin had resorted to taking cover. His back was turned to the scene, his eyes closed as if in desperate prayer. It was too dangerous for Gohan to make a move. He hadn't used his gun yet, but after what happened with Cell, he really didn't like the thought of shooting at another human being again. Gohan's sweaty hands tightened around the cold hard metal in his grasp. Maybe if he just shot a bullet in that direction and didn't _hit_ anybody that would be enough of a distraction for Piccolo to escape to safety.

Gohan stepped forward, but stopped in mid-stride. In his peripheral vision, he noticed movement darting across the street. As his eyes scanned past the West City Saloon, Videl's curious blue eyes were peeking at him from the top of the barrel out front. But when his eyes landed on the man in the street running towards Piccolo, his concern about Videl's safety was quickly pushed aside.

"D-Dad?"

"Huh?!"

Gohan could hear Krillin scurrying to his feet, but he didn't dare remove his eyes from the welcome sight of his father. He rubbed them, just to be sure he was really seeing who he thought he saw past the clouds of dust and scattering tumbleweeds. It was really him. He was really there!

A smile spread across Gohan's face. "Dad!"

Krillin's eyes went wide as he watched Goku running toward Piccolo, ignorant of Gohan's call over the sound of gunfire that echoed through the street. When he followed Gohan's gaze to turn his eyes on Piccolo, Krillin's mouth went dry. Across the street, Zarbon was still standing attentive, his eyes fixed on Piccolo falling to his knees.

"M-Mister…mister…"

Gohan's heart sank at the sight of Piccolo's shoulders rounding as he fell. Though Gohan's eyes were filling with tears and his lip was trembling, he was no longer thinking about the other men with guns or the threat of what Frieza could do. Piccolo might die if he didn't do something!

"Piccolo," Krillin breathed.

Gohan sprang into action. He vaguely felt Krillin's hand swiping at his back as he darted out of the safety of the porch. He bounded into the middle of the street towards his newest friend on the other side. He could hear the bullets whiz by him, the sense of danger prickling at his skin as he ran, raising his arm to aim his gun.

Zarbon scowled at the native kneeling in front of him. The bullet lodged in Zarbon's gut hurt like a bitch, but Zarbon could ignore it – he had enough adrenaline pumping through his system. He was victorious, when that fool actually thought he was going to be the one to kill _him_. Zarbon had survived a life under Frieza's thumb – he knew this pathetic savage wouldn't be the end of him. With those thoughts in mind and blood filling his mouth, Zarbon spat on the man hunched over in pain.

"Gohaaaan!" Goku called for his son, shocked to see him running out into danger. He'd never seen Gohan behave that way. But even worse, Gohan was running right _for_ someone with a gun, someone who would kill a child without a second thought.

Hearing the frantic call, Zarbon looked up to the shocking sight of a gun-wielding child running straight at him. Then he raised his gun.

After the next shot sounded, everyone tensed and hesitated for an excruciatingly long, quiet second. No one fell, no one screamed, but someone took that bullet. Goku ran to meet Zarbon and Gohan before anyone else regained their bearings. Whether he would need to aid Gohan's wounds or fight Zarbon, he didn't know.

Gohan startled as hands clapped hard on his shoulders from an approach he didn't even hear coming. The touch jolted him from his shock, prompting him to lower his gun as the touch flooded him with comfort and security. As he relaxed, the gun fell from his fingers, thumping on the rocky soil by his feet. A second later, Zarbon fell face-first to the ground as well with a loud clatter.

"Gohan!" Goku turned Gohan around to see his son's face, his eyes going wide when he noticed Gohan's innocent eyes tainted with a look of shock.

At the sound of a miserable groan behind him, Gohan blinked, snapping out of his shock, shaking off the blow of taking yet another life. "Dad! We have to save Piccolo!"

Gohan would never forgive himself if he didn't save Piccolo now. He couldn't watch two people die at his feet right here in the dirt path, with half the town watching or engaged in the bloody battle.

"Gohan," Goku said with eyes narrowed in pride and concern, "hand me that gun."

Gohan jumped at the sound of another gunshot in the distance. His eyes fell on the gun he dropped. With a gulp to try and calm himself, he picked up the gun with a trembling hand. His father's eyes were attentive, watching the shooters moving behind various cover throughout the town. Without meeting his father's gaze, Gohan placed the gun into his receptive hand. As his father turned the gun on one of Frieza's men aiming for Piccolo, Gohan shot a glance at his wounded friend still exposed in the open. Gnawing his bottom lip, Gohan decided he needed to pull Piccolo to safety right away. But his dad was pinned down by gunfire. There was no way they were both going to get Piccolo to safety soon enough. Gohan had to do it by himself.

Goku was busy shooting down gunman from the balconies above and across the street. Goku grunted at the surprising sounds of movements just beside him. A quick glance was all he could afford as he seemingly became the shooters' main target, bullets boomeranging off wood only inches from him and shattering through the glass windows in the building behind him. But what he saw to his right caused him to growl as he continued to empty the chamber of Gohan's gun on his enemies. Gohan had lost his mind!

"Gohan!"

"Dad," Gohan grunted, his arms already wrapped beneath Piccolo's armpits as he tried to drag him away from the line of fire, "just keep them busy. I need – to get him – out – of here! Urgh!"

While continuing to fire, Goku sidestepped toward Gohan. He needed to help him. But as he took another step closer, something flew past his eye. _Too_ close. With his eyes widening, Goku fell back on his heels. There was a _crack_ as the bullet which had narrowly missed his temple collided with the wooden floor planks behind him. Gritting his teeth, Goku sunk behind the wood trough and focused his aim on the gunmen. He had to keep them from shooting Gohan and Piccolo while they were exposed.

"Dammit!" Goku's eyes darted to Gohan helplessly struggling to pull the full-grown man on his own. "Gohan!"

Gohan ignored his father's calls. He knew this wasn't going well, but he couldn't abandon Piccolo. As Gohan gave another tug, clenching his teeth, he could feel sweat dripping beneath the shaggy hair over his forehead. He could see and hear Krillin from the distance across the street, yelling for him, darting as if to make a move, but pinned down by fire himself.

"Gohan!"

Gohan's eyes bulged as he froze at that small voice. It wasn't his father, who was still pinned by gunfire and keeping the shooters at bay. It was the voice of someone much younger and softer, and when it spoke again, it was right in his ear.

" _I'll_ help you."

Gohan nearly released his grip on Piccolo as he turned to look with wide eyes at Videl's pretty face set in a glare of determination. As she reached to seize Piccolo by the clothing at the scruff of his neck, Gohan felt his face heat at the brush of her soft skin against his arms.

"Well?" She grit her teeth and tugged futilely. "What are you waiting for?"

Shaking his head, Gohan tugged again with all his might. He winced at the groan of discomfort rising from Piccolo's throat. Gohan didn't even want to look at the blood – but he was sure it was there. Some bits of it were impossible to ignore as Piccolo's brown clothing were stained red and moist beneath Gohan's fingers clutching him tightly. But Piccolo was warm and Piccolo was alive. Gohan wasn't going to let him die. That mission was now possible, thanks to Videl.

"You kids get out of here!" Goku yelled, shaking his head and gritting his teeth at what he was witnessing.

Frieza's men seemed to keep pouring out of the buildings. Goku was beginning to wonder what was keeping Frieza. If he was really holed up in one of the buildings (probably that new one Goku didn't recognize – it _looked_ like Frieza's style), he had to know what was happening on the street of West City. When Goku tried to shoot another enemy, the hollow click of an empty chamber made him grimace. Quickly, he tossed the gun aside, drawing his fully-loaded pistol from its holster before taking aim again. He could only keep this up for so long. But with a sideways glance, he was relieved to see Gohan and that Satan girl had finally managed to pull Piccolo behind a large barrel to a place of safety.

A flash of something caught Goku's eye from within the shadows between buildings across the street, drawing his attention away from Piccolo and the kids. Someone was running towards Krillin. And it wasn't Eighteen. Goku had no idea where she'd disappeared to.

"Krillin," Goku hissed as he trained his gun.

He was trying to lock a good shot on the guy raising a glistening knife and running up behind his unsuspecting friend. But his target was moving too fast. Every time he nearly had him, another bullet would come Goku's way, forcing him to dodge and completely disregard his shot.

"Krillin!"

At Goku's voice, Krillin snapped his gaze to his busy friend across the street. He wondered why in the world Goku was shouting his name and looking at _him_ with worry when Goku was the one with bullets flying at him. But with the way Goku was poised as if he wanted to bound towards Krillin, yet repeatedly being bogged down and forced back by the onslaught of bullets, Krillin couldn't help feeling a little concerned for himself.

Clutching his pistol, Krillin narrowed his brows as he glanced to his left and right. When he was just about to turn around, he froze. In the corner of his eye, he saw _her_. She was coming toward him, her blue eyes narrowed as she looked just as deadly as always, but even more beautiful than he remembered. Tears sprang to Krillin's eyes. She was alive. Not only was Eighteen alive, but she looked well and she'd come back to West City…she came back to him. Krillin's smile slowly fell into a frown as she neared. She wasn't smiling back. As a matter of fact, she looked ready to kill.

"Wh-"

"Get _down_ , Krillin!" She growled.

Krillin's eyes bulged as he ducked. He covered his head as he was certain Eighteen was going to pummel him, for reasons unknown, judging by the way she stormed toward him with power and determination. He felt stupid for thinking she was coming back for him. But that was before he felt the swipe of air at his back followed by the clash of bone and flesh. His gaze shot to the struggle above him, where Eighteen was withdrawing her fist from the face of a man sporting a bandana around his neck and a large knife in his clenched fingers. The man stumbled back, rubbing his injured jaw with the back of his arm before baring his teeth at Eighteen.

"Damn woman!"

"Eighteen!"

Krillin winced when the man drew back. He was poising his knife to strike, gathering power to drive that knife into Eighteen's beautifully healing gut. Krillin couldn't watch that happen. He budged, but he wasn't fast enough.

"Tough guy," Eighteen drawled sarcastically, stepping back, drawing the man forward, "fuck off!"

The rush of adrenaline felt great. Eighteen drew her gun from where she'd tucked it behind her back, moving much faster than the knife fighter. She fired the shot before he had a chance to lunge that knife into her, though he did come close. Close enough to worry poor Krillin. But Eighteen wasn't worried. A smirk slowly spread across her face as blood trickled from the bullet hole she'd made in his squared forehead, before he collapsed hard on the hollow wooden planks below them. Eighteen stepped around the gunman, avoiding staining her nice boots with the blood puddling around him.

"Eighteen," Krillin breathed.

"Yeah?"

Krillin chuckled disbelievingly. "You-you're…"

He wanted to say here, but that would sound stupid. He wanted to say healed, but again, that was beyond obvious. He wanted to say, 'you came back for me', but that felt too assuming. He wanted to say beautiful, but she would probably laugh in his face. He wanted to say…amazing. Yes. She really was.

"…amazing."

Eighteen chuckled a low sultry chuckle that made Krillin want to babble like an idiot. "You're pretty impressive yourself, Sheriff."

"H-huh?"

As Krillin's brow arched to meet the line of his bald head, looking sweet as only Krillin could with that expression on his face, Eighteen smiled. A stray enemy bullet blasted off the metal spit can behind her, but Eighteen didn't flinch at the sharp metallic sound like Krillin did. She kept her gaze fixed on him before leaning in to do something she'd wanted to do for a while now, ever since she knew Krillin had saved her life back there in the wilderness and she'd never had a chance to thank him. She planted a soft kiss on his smooth-shaven cheek.

"Eighteen," Krillin gasped as Eighteen pulled away, already looking past him. "Eigh-?"

"Shit."

"Shit?"

Pain shot through Krillin's shoulder as a bullet tore through his shoulder. Eighteen was already extending her pistol past him, narrowing her eyes. Krillin scrambled to a better position. He turned to face the direction of the oncoming gunfire. He'd have to have a talk with Eighteen about that kiss later – if there was going to _be_ a later.

Goku grit his teeth as he watched his best friend narrowly escape one attack, only to be bombarded by more. He was glad Eighteen was with Krillin, but he didn't want to leave Krillin's safety completely in one of the Gero's hands. He wondered where everyone else was, and whether they were somewhere safe. He couldn't protect them if he didn't know where they were. Then there was Piccolo off to the side, who was slowly dying with no one but two scared children to tend to him.

"Gohan," Goku said while returning fire to a stealthily approaching adversary to his left, "is there somewhere safe you can take Piccolo? Where is everyone?"

"They're-they're in the Capsule Hotel!" Gohan shouted over the noise of gunfire blasts and irate, distant shouts of men.

"The Capsule Hotel?"

Goku turned a gaze on the Briefs' building where Krillin and Eighteen were posted at its entrance. It wasn't far by normal standards, but under a barrage of gunfire like this, for a weak man unable to walk on his own like Piccolo was, it might as well have been all the way across the desert. Goku cursed under his breath. He needed to get them there _somehow,_ but he couldn't see how Gohan and Videl could drag Piccolo all that way unscathed.

"I can make it," Piccolo said.

"Piccolo?" Gohan's eyes widened.

Goku gasped and followed Gohan's gaze to Piccolo propping himself on his elbows. "Are you sure?"

"How?" Videl added bluntly.

Piccolo chuckled through tight lips. "Let _me_ worry about that. You just hold them off for me, Goku."

Goku nodded with a determined smile. "Right."

Gohan watched Piccolo struggle to his feet while his father turned to take aim on more gunmen emerging from the balcony and porch of Frieza's saloon. Piccolo had to press his weight on the barrel for support as he wavered. Gohan exchanged a glance with Videl, but he wouldn't dare assist Piccolo. Piccolo would just say he didn't need help. But Gohan would be right there for him if he asked.

His father's pistol rang another deafening blast through Gohan's ears, prompting Piccolo to push forward with a grunt. Gohan marched on, not daring to lose contact with Piccolo. He kept his eyes fixed on Videl as they pressed into the street. They were on either side of Piccolo, out in the open. Almost halfway across the street, one bullet landed much too close for Gohan's comfort. Videl jumped back. She screamed as the bullet was buried into the shifting sand at her feet. Gohan tightened his grip on Piccolo. He felt like the Namek was pushing them forward now with more urgency. But Gohan wasn't ready to move until Videl recovered from her shock. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure if _he_ was ready to move yet, either.

"Gohan!" came a call from the distance.

Piccolo's eyes shot across the street to the door of the Capsule Hotel. They flew open with an unarmed woman emerging at full speed into the middle of the dangerous street. Grunting, Piccolo continued in her direction. Bullets continued flying. Goku Son kept taking out one gunman after another at the saloon to his far left. The children were trying to hold Piccolo back at the worst possible time and place.

"Move!" Piccolo shouted.

"Gohan!"

"M-mom!"

"Chi-Chi!" Goku called from behind them. "What are you doing?!"

The woman had a fiercer expression on her face than any Piccolo had ever seen from a woman. Miraculously, she slid safely to her knees to smother Gohan in a protective embrace in the line of gunfire.

"M-Mrs. Son!" Videl choked as she helplessly watched Gohan, while wincing at the sounds of bullets continuing to fly and crash into their surroundings.

"Gohan!" Chi-Chi cried. "Gohan, are you okay? How could your father send you-"

Piccolo growled and pushed the kneeling woman aside. "There's no time for this! We need to get out of the street!"

"Mom, you okay?" Gohan asked.

He extended a hand to pull his fallen mother from the ground. But his fingers slid from hers as Piccolo forcefully tugged him towards safety.

"Chi-Chi!" Goku grit his teeth as Chi-Chi fell. Piccolo struggled across the street, dragging both children with him as if he wasn't the one with a bullet lodged in his gut.

But now _Chi-Chi_ was in danger. She was the one sprawled in the middle of the street with no weapons and no one to help her. She must've been watching from the window when Piccolo and the kids began to cross. Goku regretted that she had to see that. He knew once they lived through this, he was going to have a lot to answer for. But he had to get to her and save her so she could yell at him later. He saw no way to do that, not without getting himself or both of them killed.

"Goku!"

The call across the street made Goku gasp. His head snapped in the direction of the Capsule Hotel. Tien and Launch were running out the door to join Eighteen and Krillin with their guns cocked and loaded. Tien smirked when his eyes met Goku's. Goku felt a smile cross his face as he relaxed in that short moment, knowing exactly what Tien intended. His friends had come out to help. They might've not always been the best of friends, but they were strongly united in the protection of this town.

* * *

Videl felt like crying when her foot finally landed on the creaky floorboard of the Capsule Hotel's porch. That crossing of the street had been the longest and most draining walk of her life. She was safe for now, but her problems were far from over. If this kept going, if the men of West City shooting for their protection couldn't end this here, it would carry into her father's place and endanger him. She wiped at a smudge of blood on the sleeve of her dress, not caring about her clothes, but disturbed by the amount of blood Gohan's Namekian friend had lost.

With a sideways glance, Videl could see Gohan lowering Piccolo to rest on the porch with a worrisome look. Piccolo was important to him in some way. Gohan's worries were far worse than hers. His parents were out there, in that street. With a gasp of realization, while the sheriff loaded Piccolo onto his shoulder to usher him into the hotel, Videl spun to see what was happening behind her.

* * *

Goku set his jaw while he watched Tien, Launch and Eighteen engaging with Frieza's gunmen to keep them busy. He could see those men wanted _him_ as their target. He was only going to make it easier for them now.

Goku couldn't leave Chi-Chi vulnerable out there, looking at him with those wide eyes as she was doing while she climbed to her feet. She was already running to meet him when his feet began to move, but that only worried Goku more. Shooting his wife while he was running to her would look like a perfect opportunity to those bastards. He needed to get to Chi-Chi _before_ one of their bullets did. So he ran. Faster than he'd ever run.

When his arms slid around her shoulders, Goku felt a sudden wave of relief, in spite of the fact that they were now both exposed, wide open in the street with bullets flying at them. He wrapped himself around her like a protective cloak while swinging around to redirect her into the nearest structure, which was no longer the Capsule Hotel. Instead, he ducked low and ushered her past the wooden columns framing the entrance to her father's looted bank. He turned to shoot at whoever was available. He could hear Chi-Chi yank the creaking door open. There was the piercing sound of shattering glass falling off the door before he scurried inside after her. His eyes were still on the enemies outside when the door slammed. Goku was taking a peek through the triangular, reflective shards when warm, slender arms enveloped him tightly.

It felt so good to know her son was safe, and now to have Goku in her arms again. For the past days, Chi-Chi had felt she would never have her family back like this. Seeing them under attack in the middle of the main street of West City didn't help matters. She couldn't have just left them out there. They couldn't think she would sit back until it was Gohan taking a bullet instead of that Namekian he was so desperate to protect that he would risk his own life. That Goku would _let_ him do that.

When Goku turned with wide eyes, Chi-Chi's eyes narrowed. Goku opened his mouth, but before a word came out, Chi-Chi slapped an open palm across the back of his head.

"You nearly got our son _killed_ just now!"

"Yeah, but Chi-Chi-"

"And where have you been for so long?"

"I-"

"What happened to your brother and those other hard cases who took our baby and all our money?"

"I-" A loud crash sounded just outside the bank, making Goku flinch. The activity was drawing near. It wasn't just gunfire this time. He needed to get out there and fight. "I can't right now, Chi-Chi. I need to go."

"Like _hell_ you will!" Chi-Chi seized Goku by the wrist with a grip that felt firmer than any man had used on him in a fight. "I just got you back."

Goku smiled, but his smile was sad. "I _can't_ be back, Chi-Chi. Not yet."

"But…Gohan…and-"

"I know." Goku swallowed, not liking the sight of tears welling in his wife's beautiful eyes he hadn't seen for what felt like so long. "I promised you, didn't I? He's back, safe and sound."

" _Safe and sound_? You call-"

Though Goku found it amusing that his wife could ignore the noise carrying on outside, that she could find this conversation more urgent than the need to fight for their lives right now, Goku didn't have time for this. He planned to face Frieza and end this thing. There was always the small chance that he would lose, and because of that, he cut off Chi-Chi's adamant speech by pressing his hand into the small of her back, drawing her into him so he could lean down to press his lips to hers. He wanted to say goodbye the only way he knew how - without causing her to argue further and draw this out any longer. He was always better at expressing himself with actions than words anyway.

Disbelieving how she could give in so easily, Chi-Chi let her words dissolve as she melted into Goku's kiss. She still had so much to say to him. She hadn't even begun to address the issues that started this trouble – his secrecy, his violent past, his _brother_. But right now, Goku's lips were soft, warm and caressing, parting her lips to share with her a sensation she hadn't enjoyed in so long. The feeling pouring from him as he pressed his body against hers with his fervent and hasty kiss was more genuine than any words he could ever say to explain himself.

Regardless of Goku's tainted past, he was still the same kindhearted, sweet man she'd married. Chi-Chi had no doubt about that. When his lips parted from hers, Chi-Chi could hardly even hear the gunshots blasting or the yells of attack coming from their friends and enemies outside the bank. Her ears were ringing as she looked into his eyes full of excitement. Heat flushed her briefly smiling face.

"I can't stay here, Chi-Chi. But you can. Stay put in the bank until this is over, okay?"

"What're _you_ goin' to do?"

Goku cocked a smile. "I'm going to stop Frieza."

"Goku!"

"He's a monster, Chi-Chi. He has to be stopped. Everyone's in danger out there!"

"I know he is! I saw him – but – but if you go-"

"I won't die."

Goku's heart was pumping as he turned his face from Chi-Chi and tried to hide his grin. It had been years since he'd had this much excitement, but facing Frieza was the most exciting challenge he'd had in a long while. He hadn't seen that man in a long, long time. He never expected to get this chance.

As Goku was turning to leave, Chi-Chi darted after him. "Goku! You keep Gohan out of it, you hear me!"

He was already out the door before she'd finished her sentence. She didn't fail to notice the smile on his face or the gleam in his eyes. That idiot was actually excited about this. Chi-Chi shook her head, chuckling to herself. She knew Gohan was out of danger, and there was no reason for Goku to bring their son into this. As much as she feared for her husband's safety, she also knew this was something ingrained in him, something he had to do. And besides, _someone_ had to do it, or Frieza would come after all of them, committing the same cruel acts he'd committed on Launch and Chiaotzu in the West City Saloon.

With a troubled sigh, Chi-Chi's eyes floated to the shadows on the bank's ceiling. "Frieza can't kill anyone else. He can't. Oh please, Goku, don't lose."

* * *

"Guys!"

The startling voice at the door drew a gasp from Bulma. She shot her gaze away from Yamcha's serenely sleeping face to see Krillin standing there much like he did earlier, except this time it was Piccolo, not Yamcha, hoisted on his shoulders. With a grimace, Bulma drew back from his advance, not wanting to be anywhere near that savage, though Piccolo was clearly harmless as blood soaked through his clothes and his head bobbed lifelessly with Krillin's movements.

"Guys," Krillin repeated, "Frieza's men just keep coming. Goku's going to need some hel-"

When Krillin stopped speaking abruptly, his feet drawing to a sudden stop just short of reaching an empty lounge chair where he could relieve himself of Piccolo's weight, Bulma furrowed her brows with a tilt of her head. "Krillin?"

She was sure Krillin noticed something he didn't want to see, judging by the way his eyes popped when looking past her. But she couldn't imagine what that was. Behind Bulma, her mother was tending to food for the patients, Vegeta was sleeping, and Launch's bed was empty, since she'd already fought her way outside to join Tien in the gunfight. But as Krillin's mouth fell open wide, Bulma shot a glance over her shoulder.

Krillin shook his head slowly as he let Piccolo's weight slide down his back. He caught Piccolo just short of reaching his waist and falling to the ground, but just barely. Something wasn't right here, and Bulma's reaction, as she turned her gaze back to him with her blue eyes wide and alarmed, only made Krillin more uneasy. "Uh, where's Vegeta?"

Bulma's glossy upper lip slowly drew back in a snarl as her brows narrowed. "He _didn't_!"

Krillin blinked. "Didn't what?"

Bulma's reaction was an explosive growl that actually made Krillin jump back in fear. Krillin nearly stumbled over Piccolo's longer legs dragging behind him. He quickly turned to lay Piccolo gently across the tufted lounge chair nearby, wincing at the miserable groan that came from Piccolo as his torn abdomen shifted from the movement. But once Piccolo settled and his face relaxed, Krillin quickly turned back to the red-faced woman ignorant of Piccolo's suffering.

"So," Krillin said as he lifted his hat and scratched at the back of his head, "Vegeta is…?"

Clenching her fists, Bulma turned from Krillin to storm toward her mother, who was finally turning around to curiously observe the commotion. "Mom!"

"Yes, Dear?"

"Weren't you keeping an eye on Vegeta?"

Her mother's eyes widened before her hand flew to her smiling lips. "Oh, yes. How could I not? I can't remember a man this handsome coming into this town since Goku showed up!"

"Mom!" Bulma stomped her foot. "Look over there! You let him get away!"

As Bulma pointed to the empty bed with the white sheets pulled back, Mrs. Brief gasped.

"Oh," Mrs. Brief said with a frown. "Well, where do think he could've gone?"

Krillin scowled. "You don't think he went after Goku, do you?"

Bulma crossed her arms. "No. I know where he's going." She exchanged a glance with Krillin, whose concern was only growing. "That dumb Saiyan's going to get himself killed after all the trouble I went through to save his life. He thinks he can take down Frieza by himself."

* * *

A/N: I want to say thank you to one of my patrons, sbubbia on tumblr, for her amazing fanart to accompany this story. If you haven't all seen it, look her up on tumblr or you can find these pieces posted on my blog as well. They are AMAZING


	19. Draw

With a weary sigh, Frieza inclined his chin toward his office door, through which he could hear the clamor of footsteps. The last of his men were running out to join the ongoing gunfight. By the noise outside alone, Frieza could tell his men weren't doing as well as expected. Frieza couldn't believe the lawmen and civilians of this town were putting up this strong a fight against his army of trained and well-paid assassins. Obviously, the Ginyus hadn't returned.

Feeling annoyed by the ongoing battle, Frieza rose from behind his desk, snuffing out the tip of his fragrant cigarillo. His boots hit the ground, creating a sharp tap with his heels as he stepped forward. Before he moved any further, the knob turned and the cherry wood swung toward him.

Frieza remained calm as he waited. He _would_ expect to see one of his men bursting through the door, reporting an end to the unnecessary battle and an overdue explanation of what had become of the Ginyus - but that would be too predictable. He'd laugh if he saw one of West City's pathetic lawmen. Just the thought of any of them being able to make it past all his men to get here pushed a snigger past his lips. But when he recognized the telltale black hair and compact stature of the man sauntering into his office, Frieza was first shocked, and then mildly amused.

"Well, Vegeta!" said Frieza with a cold smile, "what a surprise. Back from the dead, are we? I believe the Ginyus were supposed to kill you and those other filthy followers of yours in the wilderness."

Vegeta took another step across the creaking floorboards, never peeling his eyes from Frieza's amused expression turning into a furious, hard glare. Vegeta's need to destroy this vile monster before _it_ could kill _him_ was what propelled Vegeta all the way here on his own. Though Vegeta had acquired a taste for killing, he'd never wanted to kill anyone as badly as this arrogant sadist. His spurs jingled with his walk. His limp, injured shoulder throbbed. His hand at his side was tight and controlled while his free hand was pressed against the haphazard stitches sealing his gunshot wound. Regardless of his poor condition, Vegeta had the upper hand against Frieza for once. _He_ was the one with the loaded gun.

Even as Frieza's gaze fell on Vegeta's gun, his lip pulled into a tight smile. "What brings you to my office? Looking to beg me for a job?" Frieza turned toward the window, exposing his back to Vegeta. "The way things look out there, it seems I now have positions to fill."

Through the window panes, Frieza could see the bodies piling up in the street below. A running man crossed the street towards Frieza's saloon, weaving around the fallen. The man's face was concealed beneath a brown hat, though Frieza didn't fail to notice the pistols in his swinging hands. Frieza's high opinion of West City was quickly declining.

His eyes darted to the gun in Vegeta's hand before Frieza looked Vegeta in the eyes with a sneer. "Where _are_ those other filthy bandits anyway?"

Vegeta felt his stomach drop at the reminder of his vulnerable, solo status. Nappa killed by the Ginyus. Raditz presumably dead. Kakarot an unreliable traitor. When Frieza's expression turned into a sly look, Vegeta didn't have to say a word. His silence told the story.

"So. Those Ginyus weren't _complete_ failures."

Hardening his resolve, Vegeta growled. "Forget them! _I'm_ the one you should be worried about, _Frieza_."

Noting the flash in Vegeta's eyes, Frieza shed his calm demeanor and lunged for Vegeta's hand. Vegeta was raising his gun, just like Frieza knew he would – but Frieza was ready. And faster. Disappointed in Vegeta, he clenched his fingers into the skin of Vegeta's wrist and heard the shot bang through his polished wooden floor. He used his free hand to backhand Vegeta before the gun fell to the floor in the opposite direction with a metallic clatter less heavy than Vegeta's dull thud.

"Stupid Saiyan!"

Vegeta snarled as he fought his way up off the ground. He intended to give Frieza a better fight than this. With or without the gun, he had to kill Frieza. By the time he'd clambered to his elbows, ready to spring to his feet, Frieza was already standing over him with his gun in Vegeta's face.

* * *

An agonized yell rang from inside the saloon. Goku froze. All activity around him ceased completely, settling quiet over West City's recently raucous streets. With a gasp, Goku darted up the front steps of the saloon's porch. He had to get in there and stop Frieza from hurting anyone here.

But again, he was drawn to a dead stop.

When Krillin heard the yell, he darted outside. Joining Launch, Tien and the kids on the Capsule Hotel stoop, he followed their rapt gazes to his right. Goku was outside the saloon, doubling back from the entrance with an astounded look on his face. Krillin's eyes widened when he saw what had Goku shaken. Frieza was emerging from the saloon with Vegeta pinned against his chest in a tight chokehold. Subconsciously, Krillin rubbed his own throat as he watched the way Vegeta struggled and winced behind Frieza's taut bicep.

Taking another backward step into the street, Goku gulped as Frieza proceeded toward him with Vegeta as his hostage. Vegeta was stumbling along under Frieza's control. He wore a grimace, his eyes clenched shut. Goku wished there was something he could do to help. But Frieza's eyes were set on Goku, studying him with the barrel of his pistol steadily pressed against Vegeta's temple.

Frieza stepped onto the street to survey the devastation of his slain men and the few lingering cowards still left staring stupidly back at him. He was disappointed to see that sorry lot of civilians gawking to his left – even that woman Dodoria had shot. Even more disappointing was seeing Zarbon dead in the street and noting the absence of the rest of those elusive Saiyans.

"Well," Frieza drawled, setting his eyes on the tense and defiant gunman directly in front of him, "where are they?"

Goku blinked. Then he frowned. "Cell's dead. So are the Ginyus."

Frieza silenced Vegeta's scoff by tightening his stranglehold. "The rest of the Saiyans! Show me where they are or I kill Vegeta _right now_!"

Tien snorted and exchanged a companionable glance with Launch at what he'd just heard. Frieza had to be out of his mind if he thought threatening to kill Vegeta was going to give him any leverage among this crowd. That Saiyan and his gang had brought a lot of misery to this town. Tien would enjoy nothing more than to let Frieza kill Vegeta, aside from having a go at killing Frieza with his own hands to reap some justice for Chiaotzu.

"The rest of the Saiyans are dead, too. Vegeta could've told you that." Goku angled a glare at Frieza. "But if it's a fight you want, I'll gladly take their place."

Frieza stepped forward again, once again pushing the gunman back with his approach. They kept a decent gap between them as they made slow progress into the street, watched by all those around them, the battle in the street seemingly forgotten. Narrowing his eyes, Frieza noticed something peculiar about the tall, dark-haired, confident man glaring back at him.

"Don't I know you?"

He definitely possessed a familiar face, this man who was staring back at him, tight-lipped. Frieza could see it now. That hair…he'd seen the unusual look somewhere before. It couldn't have been recent, but Frieza knew the faces of the people he killed. There were so many over the years. It could've been anyone, but obviously not the living, breathing young man standing in front of him. When the man bared his teeth and gave a smooth wiggle of his fingers at his side, Frieza's eyes widened at the familiarity. He looked exactly like Bardock! And this was why – with a glance at Vegeta tensed in his grip, Frieza let out a shrill laugh.

"Oh," Frieza tittered, "you're a Saiyan, too."

Vegeta managed to struggle out of Frieza's grasp to choke out a few words. "-ee's Ka-karot!"

"Ah, yes." Frieza's smile spread across his face as he turned his eyes on Kakarot, the Saiyan who escaped him at such a young age. "Glad to finally meet you again. Ever since I heard of your escape from jail years ago, I've been dying to punish you myself, along with the rest of your gang for the damage you've inflicted on my empire."

"Actually," Goku said with a wry smile, "I go by Goku now, not Kakarot."

"Of course," Frieza said conversationally. "I don't blame you. Who would want to carry around the name of a disgusting Saiyan outlaw?"

Vegeta shook his head, feeling his face flush with heat. The grip around his neck was loosening and the pistol's pressure against his temple was fading as Frieza relaxed, but it wasn't making Vegeta feel any better. If anything, he felt worse. It seemed like Frieza was so intrigued about finding Kakarot again that he was forgetting all about Vegeta. Vegeta wouldn't be so easily dismissed.

"Great job, Frieza," Vegeta said, "first you let a _kid_ escape you, and now you're feeling proud of yourself because hiring an entire army finally allowed you to take down a couple of Saiyan so-called 'nobodies'. You didn't even do anything yours-"

Frieza wrenched his grip, drawing a gag from Vegeta. "You _are_ nobodies. The whole lot of you. I did this world a favor by taking out your filthy town of-"

"Frieza," Goku shouted, cringing at the way Vegeta was being handled and spoken to as he wrestled with Frieza. "Let him go!"

"Shoot him, Kakarot!" Vegeta succumbed to Frieza's grasp when the pistol was painfully buried into his temple, but his eyes meeting Kakarot's were fierce. "Do it now!"

Goku raised one gun to point it at Frieza while the other was held by his side. But he couldn't pull the trigger, not with Vegeta so close to Frieza. Frieza had his pistol ready. Even if Goku managed to make the shot without hitting Vegeta in the process, there was no way Goku could prevent Frieza from pulling that trigger and killing Vegeta.

"Kakarot!"

"I-I can't."

Frieza studied Goku, not ready to release Vegeta at the moment, but willing to wait and see what the other Saiyan was going to do. When Goku's gun finally, slowly lowered, Frieza wrung his arm even more tightly around Vegeta's neck, enjoying the rasping sound in his ear of Vegeta's breath being drawn. If he kept this up, Frieza would drain Vegeta of oxygen soon. He had a fondness for the idea of slowly killing the rebellious nuisance this way. It was almost poetic after the long, tortuous process Frieza had endured of tracking Vegeta and his gang down.

Frieza could feel Vegeta's body going slack, relaxing in his grasp as another faint breath was drawn and the Saiyan in the distance watched helplessly. Then Frieza realized this was too kind. It was too painless a death for Vegeta. When Vegeta drew his next breath with his eyes sliding closed, Frieza tossed him aside. The look of shock on the other Saiyan's face amused Frieza as Vegeta's body fell into the street and hit the dirt with a thud. Frieza didn't bother to look. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the gunman straight in front of him and holstered his pistol.

"You offered me a challenge, Saiyan." Frieza smirked and spread his fingers in an inviting gesture. "Don't back down now."

Goku's eyes widened at Frieza assuming a confident stance. Then, realizing Frieza's intentions, he narrowed his eyes. A smirk tugged at his lips as he holstered his own guns and turned to his right to position himself in the center of the street. With a few steps, he set himself apart from Frieza, positioned in front of the Capsule Hotel. He watched as Frieza stepped right over Vegeta to reach the center of the street, about ten paces from where Goku now stood.

A shudder ran up Goku's spine when Frieza turned to face him. He should've been scared for his life. Frieza had never lost a shootout. He was the fastest draw Goku or _anyone_ out West had ever seen. Goku wasn't sure if it was the cool breeze passing a tumbleweed across the way, thrill of fear running through him at the dangerous prospect of facing Frieza one-on-one, or the thrill of thinking _he_ might be the one to draw fastest, outdoing a legendary quick-draw and truly being the best with a gun out in these parts, which made him tremble. But he shuddered nonetheless, rubbing his fingers together with the anticipation of reaching for his gun. Then he realized, he had two. This wasn't exactly fair.

"Hey, Frieza," Goku called, "d'you wanna grab another pistol? Make this even?"

Frieza's eyes widened as he let out an incredulous snort. But then his shoulders shook as he chuckled, his echoing laughter breaking through the heavy silence in the street. "Tell you what, Goku," he said with a smile. "I'll let you keep that little advantage. You could use all you can get."

Goku smiled flatly. "That's awfully kind of you."

"I know."

The red sky above the horizon behind Frieza's slyly smiling face provided a backdrop to Frieza's dark silhouette while casting long shadows across the uneven terrain of the muddy dirt street. Goku gnawed his bottom lip as he focused on his surroundings, on his friends silently rooting him on from the building to his right, on the gunmen surrounding him from behind their cover throughout the town, on Frieza, whose cold stare was now fixated on him. He settled all of this into his mind before a calm settled over him, washing away the tension as he briefly closed his eyes, before snapping them open with the intent to draw.


	20. The Sun Has Set

Frieza had done this a thousand times. He would shoot this bandit, kill Vegeta and anyone else who stood in his way, and return to his saloon to assert his control over what would soon be a town in mourning.

So when he snapped his hand to his holster, spun his pistol by its grip, and pointed it precisely at the heart of the man drawing his gun ten paces away, he did it with a cool smile on his face. The blast sounded as he pulled the trigger. He noticed the smirk on his opponent's face. A sharp pain stabbed his shoulder. A forceful blow knocked him off his feet.

As agony rippled through Goku's chest, Goku landed hard on the soil, arching his back and clutching his chest. He let out a strangled scream into the open air while a burning pressure crushed his lungs. He could still breathe. His heart was still pumping. But he was hit.

So was Frieza. Goku knew he landed that shot. If he'd missed, he would be dead already. Frieza would've only had to follow up with a second shot. Goku's eyes snapped open. _Frieza_.

Filled with fury, Frieza ignored the searing bullet wound in his shoulder as he crawled across the terrain. He desperately sought the gun he lost upon collision with the ground. He was going to shoot that miserable Saiyan again. This time, he wouldn't aim for any vital organs. He wanted to make this killing last. He would make it hurt. Because _nobody_ shot Frieza and got away with it.

Krillin watched both wounded gunmen on the ground scrambling for their pistols. At the taste of copper, he realized his teeth were cutting into his lower lip. With a grunt, Krillin turned toward movement where Tien had stepped beside him, his intense gaze fixed on the groaning, bleeding gunmen. Krillin noticed more movement past Tien's shoulder.

"Hey!" Krillin raised his gun, not caring if he caught Goku and Frieza's attention. In the alleyway beside Frieza's saloon, the assassin moving toward Goku set his gaze on Krillin and froze.

"All of you," Tien said, stepping forward and waving his gun at Frieza's men lurking across the street, "you're going to stay out of this, ya hear?"

Krillin growled, his eyes darting to the shifty men up to no good. Goku had to end this soon, or another shootout was about to begin. With that thought, Krillin's eyes flew to the street, where Goku and Frieza both seized their pistols at the same time and turned them on one another.

A shot ricocheted off the ground just in front of Frieza's face. Frieza rolled to the side before the Saiyan could shoot at him again. Then he took aim. The blast echoed through the street as his bullet pierced the Saiyan's calf, causing Goku to scream. _That_ was the sound Frieza wanted to hear.

"Goku!" Krillin cried.

"Dad!" Gohan heaved a few breaths, looking at Videl's worrisome, big eyes and Launch's impatient sneer. But it seemed no one could do anything to help his father.

Goku shot off another round from the ground. He would've risen to his feet, but he couldn't. His pierced leg wouldn't support his weight. The blood loss from that first vital shot was weakening him. He saw double of Frieza's sneering faces swimming in his vision. When Frieza jolted back and growled in pain, Goku knew he'd hit his mark.

Frieza clapped a hand over his stinging, freshly wounded bicep. A streak of blood ran down his sleeve. He had no time to think about the pain. The Saiyan was aiming again. Frieza's men in the shadows were expecting his signal. Maybe they weren't as useless as he thought. With a quick sideways glance, Frieza spied a masked, bug-eyed gunman hidden in the shadows behind the bank, undetected by Goku's friends. While shooting off another round at Goku, Frieza locked eyes with the masked gunman, whose bulging eyes grew even wider with understanding. Frieza gave a curt nod before hearing the nearby click of a hammer. The Saiyan's pistol was out of bullets. A smile spread across Frieza's face as he snapped his gaze to the other gunman.

Then he gasped.

Goku had his second pistol. Writhing to draw it awkwardly from his holster pressed against the ground, he tossed the empty pistol aside. Goku grinned through his pain at the bewildered look on Frieza's face before Frieza raised his gun. When the blast shot from Frieza's pistol, Goku ducked aside, his heart thundering in his wounded chest. The bullet missed his head, but sliced across his cheek. Baring his teeth, Goku turned furious eyes on Frieza. With a surge of adrenaline, he struggled to his knees. Frieza aimed for Goku's forehead. The gun let out a hollow click. Goku smiled. With his pistol pointed at Frieza, Goku drew back his free arm, stood to full height, and smashed his fist into the villain's cheek. At the sight of Frieza disarmed and falling to the ground, Goku allowed himself a breath of relief.

Krillin's jaw dropped. He watched Goku's demeanor shift to calm as he stood before the fallen businessman who'd so quickly overrun their town. The foreign men and hired assassins with whom Frieza surrounded himself were edging forward, held back only by the knowledge that Krillin and the others had their guns ready. A groan sounded at Krillin's feet. The second he glanced at a bleary-eyed Piccolo shifting from Gohan's grasp, a sudden movement flashed out of the distant corner of his eye. Piccolo's head snapped toward the bank before Krillin's gaze followed, where a masked man stepped forward. His arm was rigidly extended with a pistol pointed at an unaware Goku. Gasping, Krillin reflexively gripped his gun. He forgot it was empty.

At the sound of the blast, Tien cringed, as did everyone else watching from the Capsule Hotel porch. Tien had spotted the gunman emerging from the alleyway, but too late. His eyes widened as he looked across to the bank again, expecting to see the culprit come strutting out from his hiding place. But instead, the gunman's rigid arm went slack, followed by the rest of his body. Tien stared until a husky chuckle at his feet broke him from his stupor.

"You okay, Goku?" Piccolo yelled, ignoring the aghast stares he was receiving from the people near him.

Goku startled, whipping his head around as he tried to catch up to what had happened. He felt compelled to pat his chest to check he hadn't been hit again and only failed to register the sensation. By the way Frieza had briefly smiled at the noise of the blast, Goku was sure that latest bullet flying through the street was meant for him. But now Frieza stared at Goku, his jaw dropping. Goku was fine, or at least not in any worse shape than he was a minute ago. He turned to the Capsule Hotel, his fingers loosening around the gun in the wake of his surprise. The others huddled on the porch were speechless, aside from Piccolo, who smiled slyly and raised his smoking pistol in a haughty display.

Goku blinked. "Pic-Piccolo?"

Gohan couldn't believe his eyes. Piccolo shot someone to save his father. Gohan thought Piccolo _hated_ his father. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. He didn't care if it made sense. He _knew_ it. He knew Piccolo was a good person, deep down. His eyes were locked on Piccolo until Piccolo looked up, meeting his gaze for only a second before scowling at the ground with a tinge of pink highlighting his dark cheeks.

Another blast sounded. Blood sprayed across the wood planks lining the porch. The force thrust Piccolo back, laying him flat on his back. As a juvenile scream pierced the air, everyone's eyes went wide.

"Piccolo!" shouted Krillin. Shooting Frieza a glare, he fell to his knee to prop up the twice-wounded Namekian who wore a grimace as his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Piccolo, no!" Goku shouted, wrestling his stealthily stolen gun from Frieza. "Frieza! You're not shootin' anyone else!"

Launch's gaze was so intently fixed on Goku's struggle in the street that she didn't notice at first the reactions right beside her. But when a low growl grabbed her attention, she caught a glimpse of the Son boy, standing over the Namekian, his little fists balled up so tight she could see the whites of his knuckles. "Hey, Kid?"

"Nooooooo!" Not hearing Launch, Gohan belted the word from his puffed chest, setting a teary-eyed glare on Frieza.

The grappling in the middle of the street ceased as both Goku and Frieza looked for the source of the shout, their eyes wide.

"You killed Piccolo!" Gohan raised his gun, marching forward with such determination that the obstacles of bodies in the street did not deter him or slow his pace. Gohan bared his teeth and tightened his grip around the trigger.

"Gohan," Goku breathed.

A gunshot sounded, but Gohan's bullet went wide, whirring past Frieza and blasting a hole into the wall of the West City Saloon behind him. Gohan shot again, to no avail.

"Gohan, get out of here!" Goku yelled, baring his teeth at his son.

Frieza turned his predatory gaze on Gohan. The boy fired another shot while the father tried to wrest his pistol from Frieza's grip. This time, the boy's bullet met its target. Frieza arched his back as a searing pain shot through his lower back, but he was too determined, too pumped with adrenaline to let himself fall again. With a furious roar, he tore the pistol from Goku's fingers and fired at the kid. The blast muffled the kid's scream and shattered his knee. Frieza cackled as the little brat fell to his uninjured knee with a howl of pain.

"No!" Goku tackled Frieza, dragging him to the ground, furiously punching and kicking until Frieza was forced to relinquish the gun.

"Gohan?" Videl felt a lump form in her throat as she braced her hands together and watched Gohan toss his head back in pain. Then she shook her head, determined. "Gohan, no!"

She ran into the street to meet him. The two men were grappling only feet away. She didn't care that the adults back on the porch were yelling at her to stay out of there. She only cared that Gohan needed help. She was going to help him. But she wasn't the only one. When she wrapped her arms around Gohan's trembling form, she was surprised to feel the heavy collapse of someone at her side. She gasped as she looked up to see that Mrs. Son had run over from the bank, teary-eyed and scooping Gohan into her arms.

"Don't worry, Baby," Chi-Chi murmured through trembling lips as she rose to her feet, "you're going to be okay. Mommy's got you."

Gohan groaned and writhed in his mother's grasp, clutching his shattered knee. Casting a fleeting glance to the struggle in the street, Videl ran to safety after Mrs. Son. She wanted everyone to survive this, but it didn't look likely.

After Goku landed another punch in Frieza's bruised and swollen face, Frieza kicked his heeled boot into Goku's abdomen, throwing his attacker off. He sat upright and glared at the gawking crowd, _really_ furious with these people now. His shoulder was screaming in pain from the first bullet wound, but not nearly as bad as the spot where the brat's bullet tore through his back. His opponent was weakened notably from _his_ blood loss and compromising wounds, but so was Frieza. For the first time, Frieza had to consider the possibility he might not walk away from this town alive.

Then again, this particular Saiyan _and_ these locals didn't have it in them to kill so easily. Frieza was confident that they wouldn't shoot him when he was down.

Letting out a chuckle, Frieza staggered grudgingly to his feet. "Saiyans," he sneered, "every last one of you, even your young – you're nothing but filth suited for the bottom of my boots."

Frieza laughed, but his insult left no impact on Goku. With his eyes locked on Frieza, Goku clenched his fists and staggered painfully to his feet, shifting most of his weight to his uninjured leg. He glared at his opponent with the mental determination to continue this fight, but drained of the physical capacity to carry on. Seeing double, hissing through his teeth over his relentless pain, his ears ringing as unsteadiness overwhelmed him, Goku stumbled. But just as he fell face first in the dirt, a growl rose up from the ground beside him; it was the voice of someone Goku had forgotten.

A disturbance on the ground had jolted Vegeta awake. His vision swirled with his last sight of the sunset scene of the town. The grating sound of Frieza's voice lingered in his mind like a bad memory. The deprecating remark about Saiyans Frieza let fly so freely had not gone unheard and would _not_ be ignored. Letting out an irritated, subconscious growl, Vegeta opened his eyes to see the setting darkness. Hazy figures surrounded the street throughout the town, Frieza looked like a bloody mess standing above him a few feet away, while Kakarot looked even worse, sprawled bleeding on the ground. As the scene became clear, Vegeta met Kakarot's curious gaze and then shifted focus to what was right in front of him. His eyes flitted past grains of dirt at his cheek, to the silver shine of a knife laying there for the taking. He snatched it. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his finger around the hilt and shot to his feet. He registered vaguely Kakarot opening his mouth and asking some stupid question as he lunged.

When Vegeta pierced Frieza's flesh with the blade, the obnoxious laughter stopped abruptly. Vegeta's knife, having cut into the side of Frieza's throat so easily, was driven in deeper with a twist as Frieza let out a desperate wheeze. Gasps filled the air as Vegeta flashed a toothy smile at his wide-eyed, long time enemy bleeding obscenely at Vegeta's hand. For the first time in his life, he saw fear in those cold, hard eyes. Nothing could've been more satisfying.

"V-Vegeta!" Goku cried.

Goku's eyes bulged at the sight of the knife wedged in Frieza's neck, the moist red trail seeping from the wound and over Vegeta's relentless hand digging the weapon in deeper. For a moment, Goku caught Frieza's pleading gaze. Then Vegeta yanked the knife free and Frieza fell to his knees, his eyes glazing over.

"Yes!" Vegeta laughed. "Finally!"

"Vegeta," Goku breathed in awe, too horrified by Vegeta's glee to utter another word.

Even from her position on the porch, Chi-Chi could see Frieza's terror. He was on his knees, his lips pressed together, his eyes wide with disbelief. Though Frieza deserved it, Chi-Chi didn't think she ever wanted to see a look like that on anyone's face again. Quickly, she clapped her hands over both Gohan and Videl's innocent eyes. Plenty of murders had been committed in the town that week, and the children had already seen more than their fair share of it, but witnessing such a gruesome killing was far too much. She had to draw the line somewhere.

Prying her eyes from the dying, statue-like tyrant in the street for only a moment, Launch caught a glimpse of Chi-Chi wrapping herself protectively around the children, shielding their eyes from view of the darkening street.

"C-c'mon, Kids," Launch said, reaching down to shake their little shoulders lightly, "let's get. Inside, both of ya!"

Videl felt a chill run up her spine as she shook herself free of Mrs. Son's warm, motherly touch to look up at Launch. Launch issued her a sad smile. With a deep breath, Videl gave a firm nod and reached across Mrs. Son for Gohan's hand. He was going to need her help inside.

Tien stepped aside as Launch moved past him to help Gohan up. His eyes flitted back to the scene in the street, ready and waiting for Frieza or his men to make another unexpected move like earlier, but nothing changed. Goku and Vegeta both stood just as frozen as Frieza, exchanging a long, hard look Tien didn't quite understand.

"Tien," Krillin said gruffly, "help me get Piccolo inside. We're gonna have to get him to Dr. Brief."

Kneeling to help Krillin hoist Piccolo's hefty weight, Tien cast another quick glance at the street, before shaking his head. "Dr. Brief is going to have a long night tonight."

"We'll give him all the help we can," Krillin said with a nod. He turned his gaze to the street and raised his voice to grab the attention of the frozen onlookers watching Frieza finally fall forward to smash his face in the dirt. "Hey, all of you! I suggest you turn tail and get out of this town now! Frieza's dead, so you've got no reason to be here! Now go on, shoo! Not a single one of you is welcome in West City!"

Krillin watched Goku turn his head, looking around at the flurry of activity that happened in an instant in their shadowy surroundings. Porches, balconies, alleyways and parked carriages were teeming with activity. The hired bandits dragged into town by Frieza were scurrying from their hiding places. The whinnies of disturbed horses filled the street as Krillin braced the weight of Piccolo over his shoulder, turning for the open door Tien was kindly holding for him. He looked at Tien, glad to see an approving smile on his temporary deputy's face.

"Did I tell you I'm glad we've got our sheriff back, Krillin?" Tien said as his smile stretched wider.

Krillin beamed. "You just did."

* * *

A/N: I am proud to say this story has reached its conclusion on Pat-reon. I will post here eventually as well, but my patrons have the early access perk and get to see the next two chapters now. You can always join if you can't wait to see the rest! Either way, I appreciate you enjoying and supporting this story.


	21. Rebuilding

The rebuilding process was running smoothly, faster than anyone could've anticipated. It turned out that some of Frieza's men ventured to the Namekian camp shortly after Goku and Eighteen left it. They'd taunted, attacked, and tormented the natives while the fighting occurred in West City. The Namekians had entered the town, incredibly grateful to the people who effectively cast out their tormentors by killing Frieza. The chief, Guru, showed no hesitation in offering their assistance with the rebuilding of West City's structures, especially after the fervent coaxing of Dende and Cargo, the two young boys Gohan and Krillin had befriended.

Children, both Namekian and West City-resident alike, traveled together under the hot sun, to-and-from the nearest stream, fetching water for the rebuilders. The blood was already scrubbed clean from the town. Sounds of hammering filled the air over the past days as adults drove nails into the new wood planks while others set to carving to reform rough wood pieces into new bannisters and doorknobs.

Krillin watched, his arms crossed as he stood in the cool shade outside the sheriff's office. The noise coming from inside was atrocious, what with that massive hole in the floor being replaced. Reaching into his pocket, Krillin retrieved his flask, pressing it to his mouth just as he spotted Yamcha. After a greedy gulp of the cool water inside, he hurried to screw the flask shut and shove it inside his jacket. He'd been waiting for this. He and Yamcha needed to talk.

Yamcha lifted his hat, running his fingers through the rim of sweat at his hairline before pressing the hat back on. He whimpered at the sharp chest pain ignited by bringing his arm down. A complete recovery was going to take more time, but at least he was healing, finally walking around today. He couldn't possibly thank Bulma, Dr. Brief, Krillin and the others enough for what they'd done to save him, even if Bulma had ended it between them. He saw it coming long before the Saiyans stepped foot in West City. He would never tell Bulma (because she wouldn't want to hear it, and probably would refuse to believe it), but he wanted the relationship to end, too. He wanted very much to be married someday, but not to Bulma. She was, and would always be, his friend. Leaving that opinion unsaid was the easiest way to walk away from her unscathed, and so he did.

Now, as Yamcha walked toward Krillin, his smile faltered. He was able to distinguish a look in Krillin's eyes, and something about his eyes -kept hidden beneath the brim of that wide brown hat- told Yamcha Krillin didn't have good news. He briefly wondered if it was Goku back at the Capsule Hotel, maybe not faring as well as Yamcha had. To his surprise, he even found himself worrying that it might be Piccolo, who had barely survived the fight. By the time he was face to face with Krillin, Yamcha was sure Krillin could see the worry burgeoning on his face as well.

Krillin licked his lips and forced himself to meet Yamcha's gaze. "Hey, Yamcha."

Even as his nerves jittered, Yamcha casually wedged his thumbs into his beltloops and bounced on his heels. "What's up?"

"We uh," Krillin said, rubbing the back of his head so his hat wobbled, "we need to talk."

Yamcha waited. He glanced for a split second at the sight of Bulma twirling a parasol on the other side of the street and strolling over to Eighteen Gero, before delving into a conversation with her. Then he set his gaze back to Krillin, frowning at the sight of his friend working his fingers at his badge.

"Krillin?"

"Here," Krillin said, plucking his star-shaped badge from his chest and extending it toward Yamcha. "I want you to have this."

"What?" Yamcha sputtered. "Krillin!"

"I have total confidence in you, Deputy Puar. But now I'd like to start calling you Sheriff. Take it."

When Yamcha felt the cold weight in his palm, he curled his fingers between the pointed edges. It wasn't just the weight of the metal, but the weight of responsibility and authority he held in his grasp. As Yamcha looked from the shiny silver to Krillin's grinning face, he gulped. Krillin really held him in high regard, to offer his position like this. Yamcha wasn't even sure if it was technically legal to go about it this way, but then he doubted anyone in West City would complain about the changeover. There was only one thing he didn't understand.

"Why?"

Krillin bobbed his head resignedly. "I think all my limits as sheriff have just been tested, Yamcha."

"Oh," Yamcha chuckled, turning the badge over in his hand, thinking back on the appearance of the Saiyan in the West City Saloon, the bank robbery, Bulma's kidnapping, the bounty hunter's deadly gunfight in the street, and everything that followed with Frieza and his men. "I guess they have."

"I'm finished. Frankly, I need a break from the responsibility."

"I can't blame you."

Krillin sighed. He was relieved by Yamcha's easy acceptance. It wasn't that he expected his friend to refuse the position - sheriff had to be a promising gig after those threats were driven clear from town - but he was worried what Yamcha would think of him, what questions he would ask. Krillin had ulterior motives, after all, for wanting to resign his position as sheriff.

"So you'll do it?" Krillin asked, beaming in anticipation of Yamcha's answer.

"Yeah," Yamcha said, poking the pin through the thick leather hide of his brown vest. "Sheriff Puar won't let West City down."

"I know you won't," Krillin said, clapping Yamcha on the back. "Good man!"

Yamcha watched Krillin turn away, cocking his head when a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Krillin!"

Krillin spun around. "Yeah?"

"Why are you _really_ stepping down as Sheriff?"

Tucking his hat over his burning face, Krillin grimaced and stepped in front of Yamcha. He guessed there was no getting around explaining it. He owed it to Yamcha, at the very least, if Yamcha was going to take over as lawman.

"Look, I'll still be available," Krillin said, "if you can't find a deputy and need some back-up, but…"

"But?"

Krillin sighed. "I fancy the lady, Yamcha."

Yamcha raised a brow. "Eighteen Gero? Yeah, I guess I could see that. But she's-"

"She has a record, I know. She's not a criminal anymore, though!" Krillin shot his friend a glare when he spotted the dubious look on Yamcha's face. "She's _not_. I know how she was with her family, but they're not here anymore and she's…she's different."

Yamcha placed his hands on his hips. "And _you_ don't think she'd court a lawman."

"Well," Krillin scrunched his face, "I don't really know _what_ she wants. But I don't think the people of this town would appreciate its sheriff starting a relationship with its longest-residing criminal."

"Well then," Yamcha said with a boom of laughter, "go for it! Propose to the lady!"

Krillin grunted, shooting an uncertain gaze across the street where Eighteen was talking to Bulma beneath the shade of her parasol. Bulma was smiling and nodding, so Krillin guessed his chances of a friendly reception were looking good. He hadn't considered proposing to the woman, though! That would be too fast, wouldn't it? He didn't want to scare her away.

When he heard Yamcha's throat clear, loudly and impatiently, Krillin sneered in his friend's direction. He supposed there was no time to wait, so he waited for a horse-led carriage to pass and then crossed the street in the shadows of its squeaking wheels. Bulma was turning away from Eighteen with a wave and a smile, and Krillin realized this was his perfect opportunity. He might never have a better chance with Eighteen again. Self-consciously, his straightened his jacket collar, tilted his hat, and cleared his throat to make sure his voice would be working properly.

"Miss Gero," he said, faltering at the suddenness with which she turned her striking blue eyes on him, "um, Miss Gero, would you…may I take you on a date sometime?"

"A _date_?"

Suspicious, Eighteen crossed her arms over the lacing of her blue dress and narrowed her eyes at the sheriff. Something was different about him. His brown vest was straighter than usual, his cheeks were more flushed, but that wasn't it. Her eyes went wide when she saw it. His badge. Gone. Her eyes darted to his, then back to the brown, empty patch on his vest. Krillin didn't seem to pick up on her unspoken question. Instead, he looked flustered, intently focused on her lips. Self-consciously, Eighteen pressed her lips together, feeling heat flush to her face at Krillin's unyielding attention. She shot her gaze past him, _needing_ the weakness in her knees to go away as she pondered instead on the loss of Krillin's badge. No one would _take_ his badge. He'd done an excellent job defending the town and keeping its people safe. Better than Eighteen ever thought he could do. Sixteen and Seventeen would've even been impressed by him if they were here. But then she saw it, flashing in the sunlight, pinned to the deputy's chest across the street. Yamcha Puar was wearing Krillin's badge.

Eighteen turned a glare on Krillin. " _Why_ would you give up your badge, Krillin?"

Krillin's jaw fell. He was expecting an answer to his question, not this. It took him a minute to process her change in subject. It was hard enough to explain his reasons to Yamcha, but telling Eighteen would be nearly impossible. He didn't want to confess his feelings to her _this_ way. He worked his jaw, trying to concoct a response. As Eighteen's eyes sparked with understanding, the sly smile crossing her face rendered speech an impossibility. The look on Eighteen's face, in her eyes, was almost like…she _knew_.

"Idiot," she said quietly, the smile never leaving her face. "Are you thinking of taking up a life of crime with me? I didn't think you had it in you."

Krillin sputtered, until he realized Eighteen was teasing him. Then he clenched his fists and locked his eyes on hers. "You don't have it in _you_ anymore either."

Krillin needed Eighteen to know what he thought of her. He hoped he conveyed it right. As she stared back at him, stunned, but seemingly impressed with his vehemence, he supposed he had.

Eighteen kicked a stone on the ground, before meeting Krillin's gaze. "Want to meet at the saloon later?"

"They're-they're still rebuilding."

"Bulma Brief says it'll reopen tonight."

Krillin's eyes went wide before he gave Eighteen a nod. He would love nothing more than to meet her for a drink, maybe start getting to know her socially. He was sure she'd never done that with anyone in town before, aside from…

"Eighteen," he said with a quiet sigh, "I'm so sorry for your losses, everything your family went through." His eyes burned as Eighteen looked at him, her brows bowing with concern. "I admire your strength. You…you deserve to be happy now."

Eighteen's eyes watered as she fought back the tears burning to the surface. She didn't want to linger on memories of Sixteen and Seventeen, because she knew they wouldn't want her to do that. She had nothing more important to say to Krillin, so she didn't say anything. She was sure no one else in West City was grieving the loss of the Geros, but Krillin genuinely cared. A smile crossed Eighteen's face as she swallowed down the lump in her throat, pressed her hand to her chest and lingered on Krillin's heartfelt gaze.

Krillin turned away not long after Eighteen did. He was thrilled at his plans to see Eighteen later, but also nervous. He would have to convince her that he was a catch in this town full of taller, more handsome men. He didn't know how he was ever going to do that. "Oof!"

Krillin was pushed back by the collision with someone's shoulder. He grunted, turning and holding his shoulder to glare at the person passing.

"Moron!" The coarse tone of voice yelling at Krillin matched the contemptible face glaring at him. "Fucking look where you're going!"

Krillin's glare turned to a grimace as he met Vegeta's black eyes, before shifting back to a glare as Vegeta turned his back on Krillin. Vegeta was heading to Frieza's abandoned saloon, the same place he'd been spending most of his solitary time over the past week.

Shaking his head, Krillin muttered under his breath, "No good, that Saiyan. But I suppose it's up to Yamcha now to push Vegeta out of town, if needed."

"Krillin."

Bulma's voice was right in Krillin's ear, causing his eyes to go wide as he whirled to see the woman crossing her gloved hands over the handle of her parasol and looking down at him.

"You have nothing to worry about," she said. "Vegeta is harmless."

Krillin balked. "I'm sorry, Miss Brief, but your brain must be fried from the exhaustion of taking care of patients day and night at your hotel. Or maybe it was all that heat in the desert that did it. That guy came here to force Goku back into a life of crime!"

" _He_ didn't," Bulma said matter-of-factly. "Goku's brother did."

"All Vegeta's done here over this past week of rebuilding is stalk around refusing to help, _threaten_ the Namekians, antagonize our residents, and hole up in Frieza's saloon doing God-knows-what."

"He's staying there because he doesn't want any of Frieza's men returning to reclaim the place," Bulma said with a smile at the quiet saloon. "He's pretty proud to be taking property from Frieza."

Krillin crossed his arms and scowled. "That's what he _says_ he's doing."

"I know, right?" Bulma said with a laugh. "We both know he's really hanging around here because he can't walk away from a beautiful lady like me."

"B-Bulma?" Furrowing his brows, Krillin gaped at Bulma's smug grin. "You and _Vegeta_?"

Not seeming to hear him, Bulma placed her hands on her hips and raised her chin. "I'm going to have a talk with him. Krillin, if my dad needs my help with the patients, you can tell him I'm at Frie- I mean, the _new_ saloon."

Holding his breath, Krillin watched while Bulma walked down the street, climbed the saloon steps, retracted her parasol, and disappeared behind the same door Vegeta did. He was worried for her safety. Then again, he remembered this was Bulma he was worrying about. His punishment for interfering uninvited could be worse than what might happen to Bulma in that saloon. His impulse to follow and protect was quickly overridden. He had self-perseveration to think about, both on account of Bulma's _and_ Vegeta's reaction to his barging in there. Bulma was going in there willingly, and if anyone could handle herself around dangerous men, it was Bulma. She'd be fine.

Instead of heading to _that_ saloon to bear physical pain and angry tirades, Krillin turned to the West City Saloon to assist Tien with his rebuilding.

* * *

The saloon was quiet inside. After propping her parasol against the wall, Bulma tiptoed across the wood planks of the open floor plan, past gambling tables and an empty bar to her left, seeing no sign of Vegeta. The place was surprisingly clean inside, though Bulma noted there was no more sign of the elaborate purple draperies Frieza had placed. It looked like Vegeta had been doing some renovation of his own over the past week. But Bulma had given him enough space.

She needed to ask him - No, she was going to _demand_ he tell her...how he felt about her. It wasn't all her imagination, right? The adventure, the excitement, being captured, chased through the wilderness by killers and saved by him, later _saving_ him. It had to be more than an illusion of the excitement, the connection she felt. If that was all it was, she wouldn't have risked her life to save him, the way she'd never risked her life for someone else before.

Bulma had never been wrong. She sure as hell wasn't starting now. The hard part was going to be getting that stubborn, pompous ass to admit that he had feelings. She approached the stairs, grabbing the wooden bannister with a deep breath. This was it. It was time to face Vegeta.

Bulma stormed up the stairs, her footsteps thumping until the sound of a glass shattering upstairs brought her to a sudden halt. Her heart raced as she heard a muffled crash, followed by the sharp sounds of more glass shattering. It sounded like Vegeta was angry up there. Maybe this was a bad time. Bulma's heart thudded in her chest, her mind conjuring images of Vegeta easily and brutally killing the Ginyus that night in the wilderness. Shivering, she took a step back, the step creaking below her weight.

"Running away so fast?" Vegeta's voice was muffled behind the walls, but hard and taunting all the same. "Who's there?!"

Bulma couldn't move a muscle. She was petrified on the stairs. Her mind raced through her options. She could run, but there was a good chance he would catch her. She could scream, but the chances of anyone coming to help and actually being able to do anything against Vegeta were slim. She could power forward and confront him as intended, acting as if he hadn't rattled her. When she willed herself to power forward, her body wouldn't cooperate. She was still frozen in fear.

A scoff sounded, loud enough for Bulma to hear it through the walls. "Coward."

Another glass shattered. Bulma didn't even cringe at the sharp, grating sound. She was too busy flaring with fury at being called a coward. Bulma Brief was not a coward, and she certainly wasn't going to stand there taking insults from a short, arrogant bastard who was too stubborn to confront his feelings for her.

Bulma marched up the stairs, stormed through the door through which she heard another glass shatter, and stepped in, glaring. Vegeta was seated behind the desk, his eyes never lifting from his work at Bulma's noisy entrance. He pulled a frame from the top of the piled frames at his elbow. Taking his time, he lowered his eyes and absorbed the image in the frame. Bulma crossed her arms and tapped a finger on her bicep impatiently. A disgusted scowl crossed Vegeta's face before he bared his teeth and chucked the picture at the wall. Bulma flinched at the suddenness of his movement, while the picture's glass front shattered against the wall and fell into the pile of glass and discarded frames on the floor below. Bulma had no time to fixate on the proudly smiling images of Frieza looking up at her, covered by shards of glass, not when Vegeta required her immediate attention.

"Vegeta."

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Bulma frowned, offended by his derisive tone, and a little hurt. But this was Vegeta. She should've expected as much.

Vegeta looked up when she didn't answer, surprised to see a look of hurt on the woman's pretty face. He scoffed. "You must be impressed by what I've done with the place. It's a vast improvement, wouldn't you agree?"

"The shattered glass on the floor's a nice touch," she said coolly. "Did you come up with that yourself?"

Vegeta turned his eyes on the next portrait at his side. This was one of Frieza's favorites. He was posed proudly with his father in front of his first ranch, a prize horse by his side. The picturesque image disgusted Vegeta. Still, he lifted it from the pile, absorbing the image as if memorizing it. A thump at his desk and rush of air in his face forced him to peel his eyes from the image and look at the woman again, who was now uncomfortably close and towering over him.

Bulma glared and covered the portrait in Vegeta's hand with her flat palm. Locking her eyes intently on his, she clenched her jaw. She couldn't hide the emotion behind her gaze, which he was obviously reading. Even as she lowered her brows in threat, Bulma felt incredibly vulnerable.

"Will you stop that and look at me?" Bulma said. "I came here to talk to you."

Keeping the frame pinched in his grip, Vegeta raised a brow. "Why?"

"You know what?" Bulma said, frustrated with his aloof attitude. "I think it's _you_ who should be coming to talk to _me_."

Vegeta's brow furrowed. "What?"

"You heard me." Bulma straightened and crossed her arms. "You owe me a thank-you."

Vegeta dropped his chin, staring into Bulma's expectant gaze. "You _do_ know who you're talking to, don't you?"

"Oh," Bulma huffed with a flick of her hair, "if you mean the man whose life I saved at risk to my own, I think I do."

Vegeta sputtered incredulously. " _I_ saved _your_ life! Or have you already forgotten the Ginyus?"

"And I thanked you for it! Unlike _someone_ I know!"

As Bulma turned, crossing her arms again and sticking her nose in the air, Vegeta's brow furrowed, his eyes darting rapidly side to side while he tried to sort the thoughts and emotions racing through his mind. This woman was making this big a deal about his _gratitude_? There had to be something else going on here. But her roundabout way of expressing herself was infuriating. With her eyes closing smugly, her nose held in the air like that, and her feet planted firmly, she was clearly expecting Vegeta to say something.

Vegeta could insult her, tell her he could've survived on his own, any number of ways would be easy to get her out of his office. But the idea of her running out of the room crying or storming off in a huff was not appealing. No, he didn't want her to leave. His eyes roamed her body, the rigidity of her shoulders, the soft curve of her lower back, and the swell of her hips nearly concealed by her long skirt. He felt a lump rise in his throat.

The words flew from his mouth before he knew what he was saying. "Thank you."

Bulma blinked. "Wh-what?"

She snapped her gaze to Vegeta, momentarily stunned that she actually succeeded in pulling those words from the stubborn bandit. But then she smiled as his eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed with pink. With bolstered confidence, she strutted over to him, leaned across his desk, and licked her lips.

"See, Vegeta?" she said softly. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Hard?" A smirk pulled at Vegeta's lips as he felt Bulma's breath ghosting across them. "I'll show you what's hard."

He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss across his desk. With a forceful sweep of his arm, not daring to part his lips from Bulma's skillful tongue sweeping into his mouth, he knocked the frames and other junk aside, before hoisting Bulma onto the desk and climbing over her. He _was_ staying in town to spite Frieza's empire by stealing his possessions, while biding his time to finally face off with Kakarot when he recovered, but this perk wasn't something to deny himself. With this gorgeous, demanding woman throwing herself at him, he'd be a fool to pass this up. He wasn't in any rush to leave West City, not with Bulma in his arms.

* * *

Dr. Brief patted a towel over his sweat-glistened brow, turning from his glass-front, half-empty medicine cabinet. In the same room where patients had been piling up on the day of the firefight, the last two patients remained in the company of their visitors and caretakers.

Dr. Brief turned to Krillin. "Did Bulma tell you how long she would be?"

"No," Krillin said absently, frowning down at a Goku grimacing in his sleep. "She didn't say."

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Dear." Mrs. Brief said, sitting in the chair at Goku's bedside, giving him a rousing shake.

He didn't stir.

"He's a deep sleeper," Krillin said with a knowing grin. "What are you waking him for?"

Mrs. Brief blinked. "His dinner's ready. I was just going to bring it to-"

"Hm?" Goku sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What'd ya say?"

Even as Goku winced and slid back beneath the sheets, Krillin laughed. "You said the magic word, Mrs. Brief."

"Oh, good!" She clapped her hands together. "I'll go get it."

As she swept out of the room, Krillin stole the chair at Goku's side. He cast a brief glance at Piccolo, still asleep in the other bed, who he supposed didn't need to eat as badly as Goku did, seeing that Mrs. Brief didn't bother to wake him. Of course, given the way Goku ate, that wasn't surprising. Maybe Mrs. Brief was just showing Piccolo mercy by not subjecting him to the greedy, ill-mannered eating that was about to occur.

"Krillin," Goku said.

Krillin snapped his gaze to his smiling friend. "Hey, Goku. How ya feelin'?"

Goku chuckled while pressing his hand to the stitches on his bare chest and windmilling his arm. The motion ended with a gasp and a pained contortion of his face. "I've been better."

"Yeah, well," Krillin said with a subdued smile, "you're getting there. Just like this town."

"Really? It's coming together?" Goku beamed. "Sorry I couldn't help with the rebuilding."

"Are you kidding?" Krillin laughed. "Goku, you took care of Frieza for us. Without you-"

" _I_ didn't. Vegeta did."

Krillin's smile fell. "Yeah. Don't remind me."

"He's still here?"

"Yeah, Goku." Krillin removed his hat and scowled toward the ground. "And I don't like it. When do you think he's leaving?"

While Mrs. Brief re-entered with a steaming tray of food, Goku smiled with a knowing, satisfied look in his eyes. "He's not."

"What?"

"Vegeta's not goin' anywhere, Krillin," Goku said, reaching for the fork on the tray before Mrs. Brief even set it in his lap. "But don't worry," he rushed to say, "he won't be any trouble."

"Oh?" Krillin raised a skeptical brow. "Just like _you_ weren't?"

Goku's bulging, filled cheeks flushed pink. He gulped the food down before a guilty giggle slipped from his lips and his hand flew to the back of his head. "I guess I should've told you who I was, huh?"

"Well," Krillin said with a grin, "if I _knew_ , I would've had to turn you in, being a sheriff who's bound to the law and all. So, no."

"The Saiyans don't have any more enemies out there, Krillin," Goku said between bites. "The town should be safe now."

" _Safe_?"

The sharp voice from the doorway made Krillin and Goku gasp and snap their heads to the two figures entering the room. Goku and Krillin grimaced, knowing Chi-Chi's tone too well not to worry. By her side, Gohan stepped forward on wooden crutches, a hesitant smile on his face, which might've been broader if not for his mother's dangerous tone.

"Um," Krillin said, his voice shaking, "hello, Mrs. Son. Hi, Gohan."

Ignoring Krillin, Chi-Chi set her glare on Goku. "You call this safe? Just look what happened to your son!"

Goku blinked, furrowed his brows, set his gaze on Gohan, and smiled when Gohan met his eyes. "You're okay, aren't you, Gohan?"

"Ye-"

"No, he's not! Goku, our five year old was _shot_! He's stuck on these crutches for another month! His knee might never be right again. Not to mention the _psychological_ trauma."

Krillin put his hat on and stood. "We all suffered, Mrs. Son. But Gohan was very brave. If not for him, someone could've die-"

"Don't," Chi-Chi hissed, "tell me my baby belonged out there again, Sheriff."

"Mom," Gohan grumbled.

"I think I should go," Krillin said, casting Goku a meaningful, sympathetic look while Goku shoveled down the remainder of his meal. "But before I do, I want you all to know _I'm_ not the sheriff anymore. I handed Yamcha my badge."

Chi-Chi blinked. "R-really?"

Goku smiled and pushed his empty tray aside. "All right! Good for Yamcha!"

"Yeah." Krillin smiled at Goku, feeling happier and more confident with himself than he'd ever felt. "Yamcha's going to be great as sheriff. Well." He looked at Chi-Chi, whose scowl was returning, and Gohan, who smiled back. "I'd better let you all talk."

With a tip of his hat, Krillin fled the room, and Goku found himself face-to-face with his wife. She'd kept her distance for the few days he'd regained consciousness, aside from delivering him home-cooked meals regularly with minimal interaction. Goku easily dismissed her absence from his bedside, assuming Chi-Chi was too busy helping with the town's rebuilding and tending to Gohan's needs. But as she sat in the empty chair beside him with that look in her eyes, Goku realized she looked troubled. His smile fell as a thick lump formed in his throat.

"Gohan," he said with a smile, directing his gaze to his son, "you're recovering nicely."

"Yeah?" Gohan stepped forward, evading his mother's gaze. "It wasn't so bad. Doesn't even hurt anymore."

Goku smiled, knowing all too well how the agonizing pain of a shattered knee lingered. "That's my boy."

"D-Dad?"

"I know I haven't said it yet, but I'm proud of you, both with handling Cell and for helping Piccolo. I'm sure Piccolo appreciates what you did for him."

Gohan's look of shock turned into a somber frown as his eyes darted to Piccolo's bed. "Some good I did. He almost died. If I'd acted earlier-"

"He _didn't_ die. He survived because of you and your brave friend."

"V-Videl."

"Yeah."

Chi-Chi huffed. "She hasn't stopped coming around since the rebuilding started. Between that girl and those Namek boys, Gohan hasn't had the down time he needs to recover."

Goku blinked. "Girl?"

He scratched his head, raising his gaze to the ceiling. Everything happened so quickly, he forgot it was a _girl_ that helped Gohan drag Piccolo to safety. By the way Chi-Chi was talking, this girl was growing really attached to their son. With a smile spreading across his face, Goku met Gohan's eyes, amused by the shade of pink splashing across his son's cheeks. Then Chi-Chi cleared her throat. Her arms were crossed, her shoulders were rigid, and Goku realized there was no more time for stalling.

"Why don't you go see what they're up to now, Gohan?" Goku said.

"M-my friends?"

"No," Chi-Chi swiftly interjected. "Gohan, you've fallen far too behind on your studies with everything that's been happening. You need to take a break from friends and hit the books!"

"But Mo-om," Gohan whined. "I don't have-"

Chi-Chi was already bent over, retrieving the texts she'd stored beneath Goku's bed for such an occasion. Even in the wake of crisis, she was going to keep her family on the straight and narrow. Gohan would resume his studies while healing, and she and Goku were going to have a long discussion.

"Your books are right here." Chi-Chi thrust the stack of books into Gohan's arms. "Down the hall, Mrs. Brief has done me the favor of keeping the rooms vacant, so behind any door will be a nice and quiet place for you to study and catch up on your reading."

Gohan frowned down at the stack of books weighing heavily on his arms. He knew when it was time to admit defeat, but there was still one last chance that he might be able to spend some time with his friends first.

He raised his eyes to meet Goku's. "Daddy?"

"You should do what Mommy says, Gohan." Unhindered by Gohan and Chi-Chi's dropping jaws, Goku continued, "I'm sure your friends will understand why you can't come out to play until later."

"G-Goku..." Chi-Chi fell back into her chair, looking pale.

Gohan shook his head fervently, unable to believe what he was hearing. But his father was holding firm, and he knew what his mother would say if she spoke again. He supposed his chances were gone now. Defeated, he bowed his head and shifted his weight onto the crutches propped beneath his armpits.

"Oh, Gohan!" Chi-Chi shot to her feet, reaching for the books in Gohan's arms. "Let me take these over there for you."

As Chi-Chi shuffled to the door and held it open with her back against it, Goku noticed the way her eyes avoided him, as well as the way Gohan dragged himself out the door on his crutches, his head hung low. The door swung quietly closed behind them, leaving Goku with the quiet sounds of Piccolo's shallow, restful breathing and his own deep sigh as he settled his head back into his pillow and patted his full, satisfied belly. Goku set his eyes on the ceiling overhead, smiling until he heard the thump of a closing door. With the approach of footsteps, Goku's smile fell into a weary frown.

"Goku." Chi-Chi's voice was somber, calm. "Are you feeling feverish? Your wounds might be infected."

The softness of Chi-Chi's warm hand cupped Goku's forehead before he spied her yellow, elegant dress sweeping into the chair at his side. Goku didn't move or speak as his eyes darted past her arm, to her face. He hoped Chi-Chi found no reason to investigate her suspicions further. He'd had more than his fair share of medical attention over the past week. When Chi-Chi finally withdrew her hand with a sigh, Goku looked beyond her brow creased with worry, into her shimmering dark eyes.

Chi-Chi frowned and leaned over Goku, nearly touching her face to his. He didn't feel warm and his eyes looked alright, but something seemed off about her husband. Chi-Chi never thought she'd see the day Goku backed her up on the importance of Gohan's learning. Yet with no pressure or insistence from her, he'd done just that. And now he was laying there calmly, having to know the cause of her distance the past few days.

The last time they really talked to each other, they'd exchanged some harsh words, or at least Chi-Chi had. She narrowed her eyes at Goku as she decided she didn't regret anything she said, because it needed to be said, and perhaps due to those harsh words, her baby was home and recovering under her watchful eye now. But so was her husband, a man who, she realized now that laudanum's numbing effect was wearing off, had been lying to her all along. He'd been a bandit before they married. He'd been friends with those derelicts who dared to take Gohan from the safety of his home and his parents' protection. But looking down on his innocent, handsome face wearing a weary frown, it was hard to believe anything negative about him.

"I'm sorry," Goku said.

He spoke those words so softly, so succinctly, that Chi-Chi thought she'd imagined them. "What?"

He answered not only with words, but with his eyes, piercing into her gaze with sincerity. "I know I've been selfish."

Licking her lips, Chi-Chi shook her head. She swallowed down the lump in her throat before masking her expression with hardened resolve. She'd been ready to give Goku a piece of her mind, spending the past few days planning a lengthy, passionate tirade. That was all wiped clean the moment he voluntarily acknowledged his mistake.

"What are you talkin' about, Goku?" Chi-Chi said firmly, shifting in her chair to level him a powerful glare. "I'm not goin' to sit here and listen to you berate yourself when you've done no wrong!"

"I know I should've tol- huh?" Goku cocked his head, his brows tightly furrowed. He knew Chi-Chi was ready to lace into him, but her words, though spoken firmly as expected, weren't nearly as harsh as they should've been.

"You heard me." She crossed her arms, scowling into the air. "I know the man I married, and he's no selfish bandit. He's no Saiyan. He's the best man I know in West City - the best husband I could ask for."

Goku smiled. "Chi-Chi."

"If I hear another word of that nonsense from you, I'm going to beat some sense into your addled brain!"

Goku pulled Chi-Chi's hand from her lap, squeezing it at her gasp of surprise. "I love this about you."

Beaming, Chi-Chi swiftly fell forward to press her lips to Goku's. She felt him jump at her suddenness, which made Chi-Chi smile more into their kiss. Goku's strong fingers, interlocked with hers on the mattress, tightened ever so slightly. A soft moan was pulled from Goku's lips into Chi-Chi's. He weaved his free hand around the back of her neck, caressing his fingers through her hair. This kind of touch from her husband was the comfort she'd been yearning for since the day her child was taken. She didn't realize it until now. Those moments from Goku's past were just that - in the past. Though Goku wasn't always the best at showing it, he really loved Chi-Chi. And now he was showing her that he always had.

Goku's eyes darted to Chi-Chi's loving gaze for one last second, wishing he could appreciate her longer. But he needed to address the man sitting behind her. "Piccolo Daimao."

"Goku Son," Piccolo retorted as Chi-Chi gasped, before smiling when Goku frowned. "Am I making you nervous?"

"I'm not gonna lie," Goku said, his eyes narrowing as his wife trembled and clung to him. "If it wasn't for what you've done _most_ recently-"

"You mean saving your life?"

"Yeah, and-"

"I didn't do it for _you_."

Goku balked at the interruption, then settled his expression into a knowing grin. "I know."

"What?" Chi-Chi gasped and flailed. "Goku!"

Goku grasped Chi-Chi's arms and stilled her. "Don't ya see, Chi-Chi? He did it for Gohan."

"He-" Chi-Chi shot Piccolo a furtive glance, before shaking her head and scowling at her husband. "He _what_?"

Piccolo clenched his jaw, annoyed by the smug look in Son Goku's eyes. Piccolo never thought he'd do anything for that man he'd suspected of not being who he said all along, even when he had the rest of the town fooled. Goku was practically hailed as a town hero from the moment he rode into West City, via the people's misdirected gratitude. Yet Piccolo couldn't deny that the man's son, the young boy who knew so little yet could teach Piccolo so much, had warmed a spot in Piccolo's cold heart. If Piccolo truly cared for Gohan, he knew he had to show some level of consideration to the boy's parents, no matter how detestable one of them could be.

With a smile, Goku set his eyes on Chi-Chi. "You think Gohan can take a break from his studies? I think he's been waitin' for Piccolo to wake up."

Chi-Chi blinked. "Y-you want me to interrupt Gohan's studies so he can visit with the man who kidnapped him?"

"It won't take that long, and he can get right back to it when he's done. What d'ya think, Chi-Chi?"

"What do I _think_?" Chi-Chi repeated with a heated growl. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her husband's expectant look. "I think there's no point arguin' with you, is there? I'll grab Gohan, but I'm not goin' to leave him alone in here with you two like this. You and Piccolo _both_ , lay down!"

Goku's brows nearly touched his hairline. "Huh?"

"You heard me." Chi-Chi stood from her chair, turning to narrow her eyes at Piccolo. "If Gohan's comin' in here to see you two, you'd better both be setting a good example of how a patient should behave. Follow Dr. Brief's orders and lay in that bed, or Gohan's not skippin' a second of his studies!"

Piccolo raised a brow, watching Goku descend swiftly beneath the sheets, clinging to them as if they were there to protect him. The insistent look on Goku's face told Piccolo that he'd better do the same, but that was ridiculous. No civilized city woman would dare give such orders to an infamous native like himself.

"Well?" Chi-Chi huffed, tapping her foot on the wood floor.

She moved her hands to her hips, watching in satisfaction as Piccolo's expression changed from incredulous to bemused to defeated as a bead of sweat trickled over the pulsing veins of his temple. When he finally followed Goku's lead and slipped back beneath his covers, she rewarded him with a firm nod of approval. Maybe there was hope for him yet. Where Goku lacked exemplary discipline and manner in his behaviors, Piccolo could potentially fill some gaps in Gohan's influence. Savage as Piccolo was, he was slowly gaining Chi-Chi's trust. In spite of Chi-Chi's unfavorable opinions of Piccolo, she knew what a bright boy Gohan was. He'd demonstrated adamant approval of this man who had gone out of his way to save her husband's life. He'd also won Goku's approval. What kind of woman would she be if she didn't give the people her family trusted a chance to prove themselves?

"That's better." Chi-Chi beamed, before turning to the door with a nod. "I'll usher Gohan in here, but only to say a few words. His studies are more important than anything now."

Pressing his cheek into the softness of the pillow, Goku shot his wife an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Chi-Chi."

She made a sound between a huff and a scoff as she swept out the door, yet her tone was notably approving - a tone Goku knew all too well. Curiously waiting to hear what transpired between Gohan and Piccolo in the wilderness, Goku braced a hand behind his head and directed his smile toward the ceiling, being careful to leave the arm by his injured shoulder down by his side.

When Gohan would reappear, Goku was sure his son and Piccolo had things they needed to say. Piccolo had forced Gohan, a scared young boy, into action and held him against his will. Goku was willing to forgive the kidnapping along with Piccolo's other past indiscretions, mostly because he knew that plan was Raditz's doing, but also because he could see how quickly his boy had grown under Piccolo's tutelage in a short amount of time. There was no doubt that Piccolo had a positive effect on Gohan, and even after everything he'd put Gohan through, Piccolo mattered to Gohan. That was all Goku needed to approve of his past enemy's continued association with his son. He only wanted to see Gohan happy. So when Gohan bobbed through the door with a smile on his face, warmth spread through Goku.

"Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan called, "you're awake!"

Piccolo felt a strange giddiness inside at Gohan's familiar voice, his jubilant tone, his eagerness to rush forward in spite of the hindrance of his crutches. He tried to hide it, but judging by the amused smile aimed his way from Goku's bed across the way, he wasn't doing too well with not giving himself away.

A weight thumped on the side of his bed. "Mr. Piccolo!"

"Now Gohan," Chi-Chi chimed in from the doorway, "slow down and be _careful_! You need to take it easy with your knee."

"Ah, he's alright, Chi-Chi," Goku added before Piccolo or Gohan could respond – Gohan prepared to whine in his defense, while Piccolo looked ready to snap at the interruption. Gohan quickly sat, sighing in relief at his father's intervention. "Look, he's sitting down now."

"Yeah well," Chi-Chi huffed. "He'd better stay there."

"Yes, Mom," Gohan said, though his eyes were now set on Piccolo while he propped his crutches against the bed. "So…how do you feel?"

Piccolo quirked a smile. "Fine, Kid."

"You don't look fine. You've been in bed for a week."

"Well," Piccolo drawled quietly, keenly aware of the Sons' eyes on him, "I've seen better days. But this is nothing I can't survive."

"Have you ever been shot _before_?" Gohan asked as his eyes went wide. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Piccolo chuckled. "Believe it or not, you got the worst of it, Kid. A knee injury is far more painful than a chest wound. And honestly, no. This is the first time a white man's bullet pierced my flesh."

"Wow," Gohan whispered, his awe displaying his innocent youth in a shining display.

"You did good out there, Kid," Piccolo admitted, averting his gaze toward the wall as his voice grew quiet. "Better than I would've anticipated. I guess to some extent, you _are_ your father's son."

"Yeah." Gohan smiled, wishing Piccolo would turn to face him again, and feeling better when he did. "I learned a lot from my dad. And I learned a lot from you too, Mr. Piccolo."

"Hey!"

Gohan started at the small voice and the bang of the door swinging open behind him. He shifted in his chair, turning his gaze on the girl in the doorway, who everyone else in the room was now staring at. He blinked, uncertain of why Videl was bursting into the room.

"Videl, honey?" Chi-Chi asked, stepping forward. "Can we help you with somethin'?"

"Yeah," Videl panted, as if she'd been running a long way to the Capsule Hotel. "I came to see Gohan."

Chi-Chi crossed her arms. "For _what_ now?"

Ignoring Mrs. Son's question, Videl sprinted into the room, having seen Gohan sitting at the native's bedside. She slowed hesitantly when the native's eyes lit on her. Sure, she'd laid her hands on him to save his life, but at that time they were surrounded by flying bullets and the man was unconscious. Now, he was kind of scary and intimidating, even if he was still laid up in bed. Her eyes shot to movement to her left and she noticed Mr. Son, staring curiously at her. She faltered and blinked, before shooting Gohan a glare.

"Your dad's still alive?"

Gohan gaped. "W-what?"

"I thought those bullets…"

"No!" Chi-Chi growled. "Of course he's still alive! What are you thinkin'? My husband's survived quite a few fights in his day, even ones worse than this. Right, Goku?"

Goku raised his brows at Chi-Chi. "Uh…yeah?"

"Well," Videl said, crossing her arms, "those wounds were pretty intense. Glad to see you're going to make it though, Mr. Son. I wouldn't want Gohan to lose his father. I'm just glad mine made it out of this thing alive."

" _Mr. Satan_ wasn't killed?" Chi-Chi raised a brow. "Now that's a surprise. I haven't seen him around town all week and with all those evil men surrounding him, I was sure he'd-"

"He's fine," Videl snapped, before shooting her gaze to Gohan. "Gohan. Dende and Cargo have been looking for you. They're about to finish up Mr. Shinhan's saloon. You gonna come drink some sarsaparilla with us when it's ready?"

Gohan hesitated, casting his mother a cautious sideways glance. "Well, I have to study. What…time?"

"Gohan," Videl said, placing her hands on the frilly frock at her hips, "if you don't come I'll-"

"I'll be there!" Gohan said, before casting his mother a pleading glance. "I promise I'll catch up with my studies before heading to the West City Saloon."

Chi-Chi frowned. She supposed there was no stopping her little boy from growing up. Here he was, only yesterday begging to ride Kinto'un through town, and now suddenly befriending violent savages and their young, along with rambunctious girls residing in whore houses. There was nothing she could do about any of this aberrant influence, aside from pushing him to further his education. It would be his only way out of this crazy mess their lives here in the West could become.

Noticing his mother's hesitation, Gohan quickly added, "Please, Mom? Can I go?"

Goku watched Chi-Chi heave a weary sigh as she cast him a glance, but he wasn't going to say anything. This was all up to Chi-Chi now. He didn't see anything wrong with the kid going – from what he'd heard from the Briefs earlier, this evening was going to be a celebration at the saloon for everything the town had survived. Goku was sorry he wasn't going to be able to be there. He was going to be bed-bound for a good month longer, or he could do real damage to himself.

"Alright, Gohan. You can go," Chi-Chi paused as Gohan and Videl whooped and hugged each other, which made her grit her teeth as she added, " _after_ you finish your studies, Mister!"

"Well," Gohan said as he reached for his crutches, his smile spreading from ear to ear. "I'd better get back to it. Mr. Piccolo, I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer."

Piccolo cracked a smile and settled back on his pillow. "No problem, Gohan. You do what you have to."

"Is that guy going to make it? My dad doesn't think he will," Videl said, prompting Piccolo to raise his head from his pillow.

As Gohan joined Videl by her side, swinging his crutches forward, he cringed. He didn't know much about Mr. Satan, but it was doubtful that Videl's father knew much at all about Piccolo. That was probably his prejudice speaking…though Piccolo had taken a few bullets and lost a lot of blood. Glancing over his shoulder, Gohan cast Piccolo a smile. He was disappointed to see an incredulous glare on Piccolo's face.

"Of course I'm going to make it!" Piccolo fumed. "No pathetic little beads of metal are going to kill _me_. You tell your idiot father that!"

Videl growled, but Gohan clenched her arm before she could turn her glare on Piccolo. He chuckled nervously. "It's alright, Videl. You just might not want to say things to offend Mr. Piccolo."

As Videl huffed and turned her nose up, but marched forward to the door, Piccolo watched Gohan sigh. Poor kid was already dealing with girl problems. And that girl, though he had to admit she could be helpful…and he did owe her his life…she could be a real pain in the ass.

"Damn kids," Piccolo grumbled, plopping back into bed.

Goku chuckled, watching Piccolo wince at the disruption to his injuries. "Sharp movements like that aren't a good idea, Piccolo."

"Goku," Chi-Chi called, "I'll be joining Gohan at the saloon tonight, too. Bulma says Oolong will be playing us some music and Mr. Roshi might even sing a few tunes."

"Hey!" Goku shot his gaze to Chi-Chi, tensing and hissing in pain as he twisted his shoulder. He ignored Piccolo's mocking laughter. "You're going without me?"

Chi-Chi's posture deflated. "Well what am I _supposed_ to do, Goku?"

"I don't know." Goku whimpered. "Could you-"

"You want me to bring you some food from the festivities?"

Goku's eyes lit. "Could you?"

Chi-Chi smiled. "Of course." She turned to the door, then hesitated. "You want me to bring you some food, too, Piccolo?"

Piccolo grunted. "N-no, thanks, I-"

"I'll bring you some food."

As Chi-Chi brushed through the door, Goku shouted after her, "Make sure you bring _me_ more!"

"I will!" came the muffled call from the hallway.

Goku smiled and slid comfortably beneath his sheets again. The soft pillow cushioned around his head as he once again set his gaze on the ceiling. It was quiet again. Kind of boring.

"Your wife," Piccolo said. "Does she really expect me to eat that?"

Goku's eyes went wide as he looked at Piccolo, then he laughed at the concerned look on Piccolo's face. "Mm-hmm."

"And if I don't?"

Goku shook his head, an amused grin planted on his face. "I wouldn't try that if I were you."

Piccolo grimaced. "I was afraid of that. Why's she taking care of me? She's _your_ wife."

"You're part of the family now, Piccolo."

Piccolo groaned. Goku said it like it was so easy, so obvious. Didn't these people remember that Piccolo had tried to kill Goku Son in the past? But now he never would. Somehow, they knew that. Piccolo sighed heavily. The people in this town were exhausting. Piccolo thanked his lucky stars that he was too badly injured to attend their damn jovial festivities later that night. He saw Gohan. That was all the company he needed.

* * *

Mr. Roshi had sweat dripping down his gaunt cheek. Yamcha tilted his head as he watched the old man place a bottle of whiskey on the liquor shelf behind the bar, then another bottle of vermouth beside it. The old man had been pretty quiet over the past week. It was strange, with all the developments going on between him and Bulma, the surprise decision of Krillin's, and the rebuilding of the town, that Mr. Roshi hadn't said much of anything. But Yamcha supposed that was just because they hadn't had a chance to talk. Tien was tight-lipped, setting up tables at the other side of the room, a solemn look planted on his face, as it had been all week. Launch was at the door, sweeping off the porch, just as Chiaotzu used to do.

Yamcha turned his gaze on Roshi's back. "Hey, Mr. Roshi. Where were _you_ during the shootout?"

"Where was I?" Mr. Roshi drawled, spinning around with one brow raised and a bottle of liquor in each hand. "With Oolong."

Yamcha raised a brow and waited.

Mr. Roshi cleared his throat before a blush formed on his cheeks. He chuckled. "Me and Oolong were kind of hiding in one of the rooms of the bawdry house after the action got crazy around here. Playing it safe."

"Playing it safe, huh? In the _bawdry_ house?"

"We-ell," Mr. Roshi giggled, dancing on his feet, "there might've been a little added benefit there."

Yamcha brought a hand to the ache in his chest, rubbing his sore bullet wound. "Alright. I admit, I can't blame you two. That wasn't such a bad idea."

"You're gonna be alright, ain't ya?" Launch said gruffly, brushing past Yamcha's shoulder.

"Y-yeah."

"So what're you blubberin' about?"

Yamcha gaped speechlessly as Launch propped her broom against the wall and bent over to wipe a spill from the ground, hissing in pain. Her bullet wound had to be hurting her as bad as Yamcha's – maybe even worse. He'd heard those shots to the gut were bad. And yet she hadn't complained, not even once. Yamcha's gaze shot to Tien, whose hands were frozen on the chair he'd most recently moved while his eyes were locked on Launch. Tien approached her, wearing a look of concern as he arrived by her side.

"Launch," Tien whispered into her wavy blonde locks. "I'm worried about you."

"Me?" Launch laughed. "Don't be, Sugar." She patted Tien on the cheek before turning to wipe the table in front of her.

"I'll give you a job here at the saloon, if you'll take it." When Launch froze her wiping and looked up at him, Tien quietly added, "I could use the help."

Launch knew he was thinking of Chiaotzu. How could he not be? Everything in this place had to remind him of his friend. Not only was it the place where he was shot and killed, but it was where he shared most of his memories with the little guy. Launch knew Chiaotzu was the closest friend Tien had ever had, aside from her.

"Tien," Launch said solemnly. "You should do somethin' to change up the place."

Tien blinked. "W-what do you mean?"

"The _West City Saloon_ kind of brings back bad memories of what happened here, don' it? Why don't you try somethin' different? It's _your_ place. You can do what you want."

"I-" Tien hesitated, furrowing his brows as he tried to work through what Launch was suggesting. "I'm not sure how I would do that, or why it would help."

Tien's head was in a cloud. He had been so focused this past week with the task of rebuilding the town, of helping others to recover from their losses and dispose of the bodies of Frieza's left-behind henchmen, that he hadn't had time to think beyond the one thing plaguing his mind the worst.

Chiaotzu was really gone.

He hadn't had time to process it before with all that was going on, but now that things were calm and mostly peaceful in West City again, and especially now that the saloon was back in running condition with an evening of celebration ahead, he was really feeling his best friend's absence. When those trespassers first entered his saloon, all he'd cared about was defending the place and keeping what was his. Now he had it, but it wasn't as important as he thought. Without Chiaotzu, the West City Saloon felt like an empty shell.

Launch's soft hand broke Tien from his reverie as it grazed his arm, before the back of her hand swept gently across his cheek. He saw her smiling with tears behind her eyes as she looked at him with the deepest concern. He had nearly lost her, too. He didn't know how he would carry on now if he'd lost both of them.

"Hey, Darlin'," Launch said softly. "Why don't you rename it _Chiaotzu's_?"

Tien inhaled sharply, tears prickling behind his eyes. He'd never considered anything like that. But what really had his heart fluttering and his teeth digging into his bottom lip was the sincerity in Launch's glassy eyes and the understanding behind them. She _knew_ he was devastated about Chiaotzu. And she had just the right idea to do Chiaotzu justice. Chiaotzu would've wanted to have his memory wrapped into the saloon he'd worked so hard to build with his best friend. He spent his life putting his sweat, blood and tears into the place. As a smile flickered at the corner of Tien's lip, Launch gave him a soft nod.

Tien's brows narrowed and his smile slowly stretched, until he was beaming at the idea of honoring his friend's memory. "With a name like that, _Chiaotzu's_ will be the best saloon the West has ever seen."

Launch smirked. "You bet your sweet ass it will, Tien."

* * *

A/N: Just the epilogue left, which is already up on Pat-reon if you can't wait! You might not see anything on here from me for a while, because next month I am putting all my writing focus into my original writing, but I'll be back with more fanfiction eventually.


	22. Epilogue

Kami was in good company, back to rocking in his chair on the porch of the newly-renamed Chiaotzu's Saloon. His chair creaked as he rocked back, careful not to roll over Mr. Popo's toes, while his arthritic fingers cut through the air with a wide wave. He smiled at the approach of Mrs. Son and her child.

As the old man's wizened eyes crinkled at her, Chi-Chi returned the smile. She raised the lavender taffeta of her dress so she could ascend the steps without her heels snagging on the long hem, and then turned to offer Gohan assistance, in case his crutches gave him any trouble up the steps.

"I'm fine, Mom," Gohan grumbled, struggling to wave away his mother's hand while moving his crutches up the next step.

"Hello, _partial_ Son family," Mr. Popo greeted while Gohan's struggle continued.

"Where is _Mr._ Son?" Kami asked. "Goku hasn't healed yet?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Kami," Chi-Chi said, her lip twisting in displeasure as she watched Gohan bearing weight on his knee and wincing.

"Aw," Mr. Popo said, exchanging a disappointed glance with Kami. "That's too bad. He's missing the celebration."

Gohan looked up, peering through the swinging saloon doors sitting very still on their hinges. Past them, he could see the bright light and bustling movement of many people inside, but more importantly, he could hear the piano music playing a jazzy tune while laughter erupted from inside.

Gohan looked to the older gentlemen on the porch. "You're not going in?"

Kami chuckled. "No. We're comfortable sitting right here, keeping an eye on everyone from afar."

"Aren't you two sweet?" Chi-Chi asked, patting Mr. Kami on the shoulder and smiling at Mr. Popo. "But hopefully, there's no reason for us to ever have a need for a _lookout_ again."

"You're very right, Mrs. Son," Mr. Popo said. "There's been more than enough excitement. Will you tell Goku we wish him well when you see him?"

"Of course," she said with a smile, nodding Gohan forward as the boy fidgeted, his gaze fixated on the scene through the saloon doors. "I'll be seeing him soon. I promised to deliver meals to the Capsule Hotel for him and Piccolo."

The doors creaked, banged, and creaked once more before slamming shut. Chi-Chi grit her teeth. Her son was joining the crowd. She had no idea what kind of debauchery the men and women in there could be getting up to.

"Piccolo?" Kami gasped, before smiling. "So it's true. He really has changed his ways."

Chi-Chi gave Kami a nod, frowned, and followed Gohan's path through the swinging doors, before muttering to herself, "I sure hope so."

She wasn't sure about Piccolo, but then, as she entered the saloon, she wasn't sure about the _rest_ of them, either.

The crowd of short skirted women and gun-carrying, tobacco-chewing gamblers was no place for a young boy, but as her eyes panned across the room and Chi-Chi spotted little Videl with her father and his women, she supposed there was no stopping Gohan from feeling he belonged in the place. She heaved a sigh. One night of bad influence wasn't going to change her son. She supposed Gohan deserved a little fun after what he'd been through recently.

"Chi-Chi! Gohan!" Bulma called from a nearby table. She slid off Vegeta's lap, prancing toward the wide-eyed pair staring back at her.

"Bulma?" Chi-Chi furrowed her brows. "Were you just sitting-"

"On a Saiyan, I know." Bulma rolled her eyes flippantly. Then she smiled down at Gohan. "Isn't this exciting, Kiddo?"

Gohan beamed. "Yeah!"

He couldn't find a spot to settle his gaze. Every time he found something fascinating to look at, something even more impressive caught his eye. Miss Brief looked beautiful of course, more dolled up than he'd ever seen her, just like his mother – actually, all the women were. The men too, for that matter. The inside of the saloon was like a festival of color and fancy fabrics. Suddenly he wasn't as upset about the tailored suit his mother had forced him to wear. And then the music...he'd only heard music like this from afar, never being allowed in the saloon before tonight. Up close like this, he could feel the jovial beat vibrating through the floor. When he spotted Videl laughing with her father, he smiled. He wanted to talk to her. It looked like they were having fun, playing some sort of game with a small bouncing ball.

"Mom," he said, raising his crutch to indicate that direction. "I'm going to-"

"Ah, Gohan," Chi-Chi grumbled, looking that way. "I don't know."

Bulma set her hand lightly on the flowing fabric of Chi-Chi's sleeve. "Launch'll look out for him, Chi-Chi. She won't let any of the women say anything they shouldn't around kids. Besides, they're used to being around Videl."

Gohan didn't give his mother another opportunity to object. He lifted his crutches and _moved_.

"Just-ohhh," Chi-Chi trailed off as she watched Gohan encroach on the table surrounded by beautiful, promiscuous women, before shooting Bulma a glare. "Those hussies better not say anything inappropriate to him or it's _your_ ass."

Bulma balked. "Mine?"

When Bulma felt a warm body brush against her side, she smiled. Vegeta didn't have to say a word to make her aware of his presence. She could feel his warmth. He had to have the warmest skin she'd ever touched - and the most intimidating presence. But she could work with him on the presence. She already couldn't wait to touch that rough, warm skin again later.

Vegeta frowned at Bulma before narrowing his eyes at Kakarot's woman. By the way things looked from where he was sitting, she'd just threatened Bulma. There was no way he was going to stand aside and let Kakarot's woman threaten _his_.

When Chi-Chi's black eyes fell on him, Vegeta bared his teeth. "What are you saying to her?"

"Oh, Vegeta. Chi-Chi and I are just talking," Bulma said, giggling and slapping his arm. She leaned into Chi-Chi's ear and whispered, "He's already protective of me. Isn't that sweet?"

Chi-Chi raised a brow, her eyes darting from Bulma to Vegeta. She had no idea what was going on here. She'd heard in passing that Bulma and Yamcha were no longer an item, but this was a new, fast development she hadn't expected.

"Uh...sure," Chi-Chi said with a shrug, setting her eyes on the line of bar stools behind Bulma. "I'm gonna go...get a drink."

Bulma smiled as she watched Chi-Chi walk away, then wove her arm through Vegeta's. He shoved her off and she pouted at him, but as he met her eyes, her pout turned to a smile. He was a case, that one, not ready for public displays of affection yet, apparently. But he was _her_ case, and he knew it as well as she did.

As Mrs. Son took a seat at the bar, Tien pivoted in her direction. A smile crept across his face as he slid to her, reaching for the cool bottles of sarsaparilla below the counter. "What'll it be, Mrs. Son?"

"Sarsaparilla, please."

Tien's smile spread across his face as he handed Chi-Chi the glass bottle. "One for Gohan, too?"

Chi-Chi glanced toward the table where Gohan had settled in comfortably, looking like he actually belonged with those degenerates. Mr. Satan's boisterous bragging carried across the saloon from that table, reaching Chi-Chi's ears. Gohan looked content to listen, smiling while Videl frowned at her father and blushed by his side. Chi-Chi hoped that girl was blushing out of embarrassment of her father, rather than Gohan's presence bringing heat to her cheeks. Those children were _far_ too young to think about courting. But Chi-Chi had to admit, they did look cute together. If anything ever did happen between them, they'd make some beautiful babies.

Chi-Chi coughed at the thought, spinning to the bar and downing a gulp of her fizzy drink from the lip of the bottle. She saw Tien looking at her funny and realized he had asked her about Gohan and was still expecting an answer.

Chi-Chi slammed the bottle on the bar. "No. Gohan's fine _just_ as he is."

"Chi-Chi!" A large shadow loomed over the bar as a heavy weight settled into the barstool at Chi-Chi's side, causing it to groan in distress. "Mr. Shinhan! The bar looks great!"

Tien smiled. "Thank you, Mr. King. And how's your bank coming along?"

"Fine, fine," he said, chuckling and patting his robust chest. "We're making progress. It'll all come together in time. The important thing is, we're safe."

Tien's smile drooped into a frown. "What can I get you, Mr. King?"

"Oh! I'm..." Ox King flushed and let out a sigh, adjusting his collar as if it were too tight. "I'm sorry, Tien. So sorry about Chiaotzu. Those poor Geros, too."

"Honestly, Dad," Chi-Chi groaned and flushed red. "Sometimes you're as bad as Goku! Can't you men be sensitive to other people's feelings without blurting things out like that?"

"Sorry, Chi-Chi." Ox chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "I really am sorry, Mr. Shinhan. I think it was a great idea for you to rename this place in Chiaotzu's memory, though."

"It's no problem, Mr. King," Tien said, feeling the unsettling drop in his stomach lift. "It was Launch's idea, actually."

"Launch?" Mr. King glanced over his shoulder.

In her corset and frilly yellow skirt, Launch was perched on a table with a knife in one hand and the other hand flat on the tabletop. With a tense audience around her, she continued playing her dangerous game of five finger fillet. Tien inhaled sharply as he watched Launch's speed increase. He heard Chi-Chi squeak at his side before she quickly turned away, shielding her eyes.

"She's uh..." Ox ruffled his fingers through his hair, uncertain what to say. "Certainly interesting, isn't she?"

Tien quirked a smile, his gaze fixed on Launch's beautiful face. "She's _interesting_ , alright."

When Launch looked up from the table, tossed the spinning knife in the air and caught it by the hilt, Tien let out a breath of relief. She looked his way, smirking and meeting his eyes. Tien smiled back. He wasn't ready for a relationship, but he knew Launch was always going to be there for him if he needed her. And he would be there for her.

Loud laughter rang from a full, round table of card players, breaking Tien's reverie. He looked that way to see the players deep into their game of poker. Krillin was leading by a wide margin. Across from him and his growing stack of red tokens, Eighteen's face was twitching. Tien shook his head. He knew cheating when he saw it, but then the sheriff was over there playing with them, and he wouldn't want to get the old sheriff into too much trouble with the new one.

"What is it, Tien?" Mr. King asked, turning to follow his gaze.

Tien reached for his personal bottle of whiskey and took a swig. "It seems Miss Gero has more influence over our dear Krillin than he originally thought."

As Tien chuckled and raised his chin sharply, Mrs. Son turned to look with her father. Cries of disappointment and alarm rang out from the poker table before Mr. Roshi slammed his cards down in forfeit and Yamcha's foot tapped rapidly below the table. As Krillin chuckled and scooped the tokens in the table's center to himself, Eighteen leaned back in her chair, a smug smile planted on her face.

"I bet there's good money in that game," Ox King said, smiling slyly and tracing the line of his brown beard.

"Dad," Chi-Chi growled. "You are _not_ gonna start gambling while your grandson is here to watch you."

Ox blinked. "Gohan? He's here?"

As he looked around, Chi-Chi scoffed and took another swig of her drink. She supposed it was about time she eat something and start collecting food to take to Goku. The truth was, she missed him. Parties like this were never as fun without Goku around.

Ox slipped his hand into the interior of his vest, meaning to draw out his cigarettes. But when he caught his daughter's watchful eye, he realized he couldn't get away with that, not in here. Like gambling, he was supposed to refrain from smoking in front of Gohan. Slowly, he slid the cigarette case back in place and gave it a pat, before sliding to his feet from the bar stool.

"I think I'll...head out and have a smoke before I say hello to Gohan," he said.

Chi-Chi crossed her arms and scowled. "You'd _better_."

Disquieted by his daughter's reprehensive gaze, Ox slipped away from the bar. He passed the crowded poker table where Yamcha dealt another hand, then passed Oolong at the piano, then passed the table surrounded by Mr. Satan and his giggling, beautiful women, and then passed his grandson and that little Satan girl playing a game of jacks beneath the next table, making his way to the saloon's back door. He hesitated before reaching for the handle.

To his left, through the panes of glass at the back window, he could see the silhouette of a figure lurking. Someone was peering inside. Ox gripped the pistol at his hip, which he was now in the habit of carrying in light of recent events. He threw the door open and slammed it closed behind him as he stepped out. The music and laughter of the saloon's festivities were now muffled, but the sound carried just loudly enough that he couldn't make out the slightest sound from his company in the dark. Tense, Ox listened vigilantly.

"Hiya, Ox!"

Ox jumped. As he opened his mouth to cry out, a hand clapped around his lips. His eyes went wide as he followed the muscular arm up to white wrinkled sleeves folded at the elbow leading to a familiar, smiling face.

Goku withdrew his hand, smiling apologetically. "Steppin' out for a smoke?"

"G-Goku! My boy, what are you doing ou-"

Goku grimaced. "You're not gonna tell Chi-Chi you saw me out here, are ya? I'm supposed to be in bed, but I just got so restless! I could hear the piano playing all the way from the hotel."

Ox furrowed his brows and slipped a trembling hand beneath his vest for his cigarettes again. "Are you sure you're okay to move around? I thought-"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Goku said, waving it off with a broad gesture as a smile returned to his face. "Can hardly even feel it."

The sensation of pinching a cigarette between his lips seemed to immediately calm Ox's unsettled nerves. He pulled out his matches, striking one and looking at Goku, whose boyish grin was now highlighted by the dancing flame.

"You want one?"

Goku wrinkled his nose. "Nah, can't stand the smell."

"Oh, right." Ox chuckled, packing his cigarette case away and considerately letting out a puff of smoke _away_ from his son-in-law. "I forgot. You and your sensitive nose."

Goku didn't answer at first. Ox grunted as he looked to his son-in-law to see the young man's head bowed toward the ground.

"Sorry I robbed your bank, Ox," Goku muttered.

Ox tilted his head slowly, trying to recall just _how_ his son-in-law robbed his bank. He supposed...he did. But then, that was all for Gohan's sake, wasn't it? Ox wanted whatever was best for his daughter and her family, and Goku knew how to provide it. As far as Ox was concerned, the robbery was water under the bridge. Chi-Chi was happy. Gohan was happy.

"Think nothin' of it, Goku!"

Ox clapped Goku on the back with a laugh, though he felt bad when Goku grunted at the impact and clutched his injured chest. After he turned an apologetic smile on his son-in-law, they both sputtered with laughter.

Ox took another drag off his cigarette, then turned toward the light of the saloon window. "So...what were you doing out here?"

"Well," Goku said, casting a sidelong look at the window and rubbing the back of his head. "I'm not allowed to come in, so I figured I could at least see what's going on."

Ox stepped by Goku's side, sharing his view into the saloon. They had a great perspective of the card game from here, and Videl and Gohan were practically under their noses, but they could only see the occasional jutting of a foot or hand of the kids' from beneath the table. Their view of the rest of the saloon was temporarily obscured when a dancing pair passed right by the window, bouncing to the ragtime feel of the playing song.

Goku let out a high-pitched cry of surprise, following the dancing couple with his eyes. "V-Vegeta? Vegeta can dance?"

Without a response from Ox, Goku stared, shaking his head. He couldn't get over watching a man he knew for so long, someone so stiff and uptight, dancing with one of his dearest friends. He wondered what Bulma had done to him in such a short time. His head tilted to the side at that thought. He supposed he knew. Women had a funny way of changing things.

"Forget Vegeta," Ox said, pointing a finger through the window to the entrance of the saloon. "Who's that?"

A tall figure stepped out of the shadows, raising the wide brim of his brown Stetson to reveal his face. Goku's jaw fell. He couldn't believe it. It was like he was seeing a ghost. Someone had to have resurrected his brother. And Goku warned Raditz not to come back here if he did survive! Oh well. Too late for that. Goku supposed it was a good thing Raditz survived, as long as he approached everyone in a friendly manner, which he seemed to be doing.

When Raditz took another step forward, the piano music halted with a cacophonous smash of the keys. The laughter filling the air dissipated as all eyes turned on the Saiyan. Roshi cocked his head and placed his empty bottle on the table while other card players lowered their hands, unknowingly exposing their cards. The imposing figure in the doorway broke the silence with his footsteps as he started moving toward the bar.

Roshi scratched his flushed cheek. "Haven't I seen this vagrant somewhere before?"

Tien frowned at the back of Roshi's head, then at the man approaching his bar. This Saiyan was a man he never thought he'd see in his saloon again. He thought the other Saiyans had died out there in the wilderness. Yet one was right in front of him, back in Chiaotzu's Saloon, taking a seat at the empty barstool beside Mrs. Son.

Raditz grinned at the stunned bartender. "Care to pour me a drink?"

Tien snapped his mouth shut and scowled. "Sorry, Saiyan, but this is a private party."

Raditz smiled and extended his reach across the counter and beneath the bar, grabbing the first bottle on which his fingers made purchase. "Looks to me like this party's for everyone who survived an invasion from Frieza and lived to tell the tale. I believe I'm one of those people."

"Raditz!" Vegeta's shout thundered through the saloon. "How the fuck are you alive?"

Raditz turned to raise his bottle to Vegeta. "Good to see you're still alive, too, Vegeta."

Chi-Chi gaped at the man beside her taking a hefty swig of amber liquid from a large bottle. He thumped the bottle on the table with a hiss as the liquid ran down his throat, and then glanced sideways at Chi-Chi with a subtle leer. The last time she'd seen this man, he invaded her home, attacked her, took her child, and told her wild stories about her husband which later turned out to be true. Sitting and drinking beside him was _beyond_ unsettling.

Chi-Chi crossed her arms -modestly, angrily, _tightly_ \- over her bosom. "Vegeta asked you a question, asshole."

Raditz scowled at the fine wood grains on the bar. He nearly _hadn't_ survived, but that part didn't need telling. He was loath to admit that he owed his survival to the very race of people he'd thought were below him. They took it upon themselves to take him in when he was inches from death, struggling deliriously in the wilderness with fever. The trusting fools. They were lucky he wasn't feeling cruel when he healed and prepared to leave the Namek camp.

Raditz looked into his brother's wife's dark eyes shining with a fiery passion he hadn't seen in a good while. He smiled as he recalled casing the saloon earlier before he'd stepped through its doors. His brother wasn't the only one who could watch people, but he sure as hell was the same excellent scapegoat he had been when they were younger.

Raditz pressed the bottle to his lip again and gave it a slight tilt, his eyes set on his sister-in-law. "You know my brother's right outside the saloon, right?"

As Raditz took a swig of liquor, raising his bottle in the air, Chi-Chi gasped, growled and shot to her feet. Raditz nodded sharply in the direction of the back window. Chi-Chi stomped across the saloon and threw open the back door so fast that no one else had moved a muscle or said a word before she was gone.

As a man's scream sounded from outside the back window, followed by sharp, angry ranting, Raditz chuckled into his bottle. He hadn't intended to settle in here, but it looked like Vegeta had cozied up with the wench they'd taken hostage. Kakarot had already made it clear _he_ wasn't going anywhere. And though Raditz couldn't help being appreciative of what the Nameks did for him, he certainly wasn't settling up camp with _them_ any time soon. No. He could hang around here. This place was as good as any other town. Now that Frieza was gone, for the first time since he could remember, settling down was an option.

"Now I know where I seen him!" Roshi slurred, throwing a hand up in the air and nearly falling out of his chair. "That's Goku's brother!"

Raditz rolled his eyes and took another swig as the saloon patrons gradually resumed their previous activities. Oolong began a new song on the piano, the music jilted at first but returning to its prior flow within minutes.

Tien grit his teeth and dug his fingers into the edge of his bar. He was fixated on Raditz. He supposed there were enough killers and criminals accepted in his saloon and West City now that it didn't make sense for him to single out this one. But he wasn't going to like it. And he wasn't going to let Raditz out of his sight. He would stay vigilant of all new customers from now on, for the sake of the town.

"Vegeta." That familiar, feminine voice made Raditz raise a brow. "Does your friend have somewhere to stay?"

"He's _not_ my friend."

Ah, Vegeta - his nearest and dearest. Raditz spun slowly on his barstool to face the happy couple. When Vegeta met his eyes, Raditz smirked. It sounded like Vegeta's woman was offering to take up with him.

"Raditz," Bulma said, ignoring the men's animosity as she turned a brilliant smile on the taller Saiyan. "My parents have plenty of vacant rooms at the Capsule Hotel. You can stay. _If_ you promise to behave yourself."

Raditz barked a laugh. "Behave myself?"

Vegeta caught Raditz's eye and sent his friend a cruel smirk. "If he steps out of line, Bulma, I'm more than willing to do the honor of running him out of town."

"Well," Bulma said, clapping her hands together. "There you have it! Now, Vegeta. I believe _you_ owe me another dance. Oolong's playing my favorite tune."

Vegeta balked as Raditz laughed. He groaned when Bulma seized his hand, dragging him into her arms. Even with the numbing effect of alcohol, he could feel heat rushing to his face at the humiliation of demonstrating his dance skills to these people. He couldn't believe he was actually allowing this to happen twice in one night. As Bulma twirled gracefully out of his arms and extended his reach, Vegeta caught sight of Kakarot and his woman outside. They were embracing, grinning through the window like a couple of idiots as they watched him dance.

His feet still moving and gliding, Vegeta rolled his eyes and grimaced, receiving a scornful glare from Bulma in the process. He could see his new life becoming a stage show around here with Kakarot the clown orchestrating the whole damn thing if he wasn't careful. Ah well. At least he knew Raditz's return was good news in one regard - _his_ horse had been the one loaded with their stolen cash. Once Vegeta got his hands on his take, he could live out his life here as a very wealthy man - as long as these people didn't taint him any further with their overwhelming brand of kindness and stupidity.

* * *

Yamcha was the last patron to leave the saloon that night while Tien remained inside, closing the place. He stepped out on the porch, hearing the sound of howling coyote in the distance while viewing the black sky casting starlight over the town. Yamcha turned, tipping his hat to the elderly Native American still rocking in his chair on the porch.

"Goodnight, Sheriff Puar," Kami said tiredly.

Yamcha flashed his teeth and gave a tired nod before descending the steps. "You be safe now, Mr. Kami."

Kami's eyes filled with contentment as he watched over the quiet main street of West City, until the lone figure of the sheriff disappeared into the shadows. Even with some shady characters residing here now, Kami knew West City _was_ safe.

Safer than ever.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I want to thank Reda for beta reading this story for me, without whose excellent input this story wouldn't be the same. And I'd like to thank sbubbia for creating amazing fanart to this fic, which you can find on her tumblr page. I was so flattered when I first saw it, and I'm so happy for her being nominated for the piece in the Vegebul TPTH Awards. I have many more stories in me, some of which you will only be able to find exclusively on Pat-reon, but the Western au, I have to admit, was a really fun one ;D


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